


Glass

by orange_panic_archive



Series: Fearless [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Bending (Avatar), Drama, F/M, Fights, Firebending & Firebenders, Friendship, Major Character Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Plot, Politics, Republic City, Romance, Triple Threat Triad, no major character deaths yet but also not committing to not?, sorry this got really long but the chapters are short i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 102
Words: 175,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_panic_archive/pseuds/orange_panic_archive
Summary: Two months after the events of AWOL, General Iroh and Asami Sato begin to navigate the consequences -- good and bad -- of their previous mission together. But when an innocent yet deadly invention of Asami's mysteriously falls into the wrong hands, the lines between professional and personal, wrong and right, and bender and non-bender begin to blur.Sequel to AWOL.
Relationships: Bolin/Opal (Avatar), Iroh II/Asami Sato
Series: Fearless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954804
Comments: 82
Kudos: 93





	1. ASAMI

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during what would have been LOK3, but as it is a sequel to an earlier work it departs from show canon mid-season 2 (and note I've only seen the show, so it does not factor in canon from the books or comics). Glass makes more sense if you read the previous story, AWOL, but it isn't absolutely essential.
> 
> Usual disclaimer that I own none of the LOK content.
> 
> M for language, non-graphic violence and death, some sex. Trigger warning, suicide attempt.
> 
> I love comments!

Iroh had gone to shower in the tiny bathroom attached to his room on the battleship. Asami could hear the water running in quick bursts. Apparently, fresh water being something of an important commodity at sea, he’d been trained to use it sparingly and only to rinse. She sometimes wondered if that’s why he’d spent so much time bathing in the icy rivers when they’d traveled south together. Even a freezing stream might feel like a luxury to a man who never allowed himself a proper shower. 

Asami herself lay in Iroh’s narrow bed, the formerly crisp white sheets balled comfortably around her. They didn’t come to his place often, both because his “place” consisted of a tiny room behind two security checkpoints and because it might raise more eyebrows than was necessary. But they’d gotten dinner the previous evening at a restaurant nearby and afterwards Iroh’s goodbye kiss hadn’t… well… resulted in much in the goodbye department. The ship had been closest.

She heard the water turn on again. Come to think of it, Asami thought, a shower sounded nice, and it would mean that she could go straight to the office instead of stopping off. And as long as Iroh wanted to save water… She sat up and looked around. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, but nothing jumped out at her as particularly suitable, so she wound the white top sheet around herself and walked to the bathroom. She didn’t knock. Instead, Asami turned the handle and was greeted with a faceful of steam. Iroh might not use much water, but what he did use was very hot. 

The bathroom itself was perhaps the size of a large closet and was the same iron gray as the rest of the ship. A sink was built into the wall to her left, a metal toilet on the floor next to it. A showerhead protruded from an inset area in the wall directly opposite the door. Space being at a premium, there was no real separation between the shower and the rest of the bathroom. A white plastic curtain did a halfhearted job of keeping the spray away from the sink and toilet, but that was all. 

Iroh, his back to her, jumped at the sound of the door. “Ah!” he said, turning and attempting to cover himself. “Hey! I’m… what? I’m not… one minute…” He grabbed at the white curtain and missed. Asami stifled a laugh. After they started seeing one another she’d quickly realized that Iroh was, for whatever reason, very embarrassed by attention to his body. Tall, with thick black hair, golden eyes, chiseled features, and the lean body of an athlete, Asami had no idea where his hesitation came from. She’d seen men with far less flaunt a lot more. She found it kind of adorable. 

Asami dropped the sheet in the doorway and stepped towards him. Iroh’s eyes went wide and he stopped talking. “Mind if I join you?” she said, and, not waiting for an answer, slid under the water next to him. It was almost too hot for her, but she leaned her head back anyway. “Where’s the shampoo?” she asked, and then Iroh was on her. He pushed her back against the wall with his body, kissing her, his hands in her wet hair. Wow, that hadn’t taken long. They’d been at it like rabaroos for almost two months now, but to their mutual excitement neither one of them had shown any sign of losing interest in the more physical aspects of their relationship. 

Asami reached out blindly to the shelf where she knew the soap was and felt around until she could grab it. Then she started soaping Iroh’s back and arms while he kissed her. He didn’t stop. She could taste the hot water on his lips. “I am trying to shower,” she mumbled against his mouth. 

“Not enough room,” he growled back. He reached behind him and took the soap from her. “I can help.” Then he did. Slowly. Iroh was nothing if not thorough. He kept the water on.

They stumbled out of the shower some time later, Asami hitting the water off with the tips of her fingers as Iroh pulled her out the door. “Towel?” she asked.

“Busy,” Iroh breathed, and then his feet tangled in the sheet she’d left by the door. He grabbed at the door frame and managed to swing them both onto the narrow bed. Then it felt like he was everywhere, surrounding her, kissing her all over, both their bodies slick and dripping wet. There was barely room for the two of them, but somehow Iroh never let her feel like she would fall. The challenge now would be keeping quiet. Asami had no illusions about how far sound could travel on a giant hunk of metal. But Iroh knew his way around a woman’s body, far more so than anyone she’d been with previously, and she was used to expressing her, uh, appreciation for that fact. She’d once shouted his name so loudly someone had thrown a shoe at their window. He was a bit older than her, and she didn’t always like thinking about exactly where he’d gotten all that experience, but she mostly did a good job of not dwelling on it. He was here now, and anyways she was clearly benefiting. 

Asami wrapped her legs around him as he pushed himself up over her, giggling and sputtering as water from his hair dripped onto her face. She knew he was doing it on purpose, the jerk. Iroh grinned down at her, gold eyes laughing, then shifted forward.

No, it was safe to say that they had not lost interest in one another quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, what happened between the end of AWOL and the beginning of Glass, you ask? Last we saw they just kissed a few times, and you open with THIS? Well, never fear. If you're looking for the (mostly plotless, E-rated) interlude, check out the companion piece, Incendiaries, here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113837/chapters/63522175


	2. IAMEH

Iameh rolled up to General Iroh’s door and knocked. It wasn’t like him to be late. The sun was already high in the sky; it had to be nearly 8am at least. While that wasn’t a problem, _per se,_ as he didn’t have anything official until 09:00, it was unusual enough to warrant her checking in on him. What was the point of having a chief of staff if she didn’t? Besides, he’d long ago had all of the raised thresholds removed on the ship, making it comparatively easy for her to get around. Little things like that were the big reason she’d followed him over to Republic City Central Command. Iroh was good people.

To her relief, General Iroh opened the door promptly at her knock. He glanced out for a half second before looking down at her. To her surprise he was only half-dressed, wearing just his uniform slacks and a white undershirt. His dark hair was wet, as if he had only recently showered. A toothbrush stuck out of one corner of his mouth. Late, indeed.

“Lmma-imma-mm,” he said through a mouthful of toothbrush. 

Iameh smiled. “Good morning to you, too, sir. Late start today? It’s nearly 08:00.” Iroh gave a little start at that, looking guilty. “It’s all right, you haven’t missed anything on your schedule, but I wanted to check in. All good?” 

Iroh nodded. “Omm-hmm,” he said, then shook his head and removed the toothbrush. He held up one finger in a waiting gesture and disappeared back into the room. She heard the sink run briefly, then he reappeared. “All good,” he said again, wiping his mouth. “And I’m sorry if I made you worry. Everything is fine; I’m just running a little late today.” 

Iameh nodded. “All right, sir.”

“Front gate in ten?” he asked. He glanced down at himself, as if verifying his progress. “Ten,” he repeated.

“Yes, sir.” 

Iameh had put her hands on her wheels to go when she saw an arm wrap around Iroh’s chest. A young woman emerged beside him. Tall and lean, with long, jet-black hair and green eyes, she looked vaguely familiar, though Iameh couldn’t place where she might have seen her before. She was dressed in a dark business suit and held a cup of tea in one hand. Her hair was also wet, as if she’d just showered as well. Iameh watched, stunned, as the woman leaned upwards and kissed General Iroh on the corner of his mouth. Well _that_ was certainly interesting. Iameh abruptly decided that she’d like to stick around for this. She put her hands back in her lap.

“Mmm, minty,” the woman said, and smiled at Iroh. The general, of all things, blushed. Iameh struggled to suppress a grin. This was getting better and better. The woman turned to her. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said, putting the tea on something inside the door and holding out her hand. “Are you by any chance Lieutenant Iameh?”

“I am,” said Iameh, shaking it. She was used to being easily recognized.

“Asami Sato. I’m glad to finally meet you. Iroh speaks very highly of you, you know.”

Iameh did know that, but she smiled all the same. Whoever this Asami Sato was, she already liked her. “Nice to meet you, Miss Sato.” She glanced up at Iroh, whose cheeks were now a deep pink. She decided not to embarrass him further by telling Miss Sato that she’d had no idea Iroh was seeing someone. He had always been a rather private man, and Iameh didn’t need to know everything. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I need to borrow General Iroh shortly. I hope that I’m not—” she glanced quickly up at Iroh and flashed him a smile. She couldn’t resist “—interrupting anything?” 

“No, no, don’t worry,” said Asami as Iroh flushed crimson. “I was on my way out.” She looked back at Iroh. “See you tomorrow?” 

He smiled and nodded stiffly. “Yes,” he said. He sounded a little like he was choking.

Asami grinned, squeezed the arm that was still around Iroh’s torso, then stood on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. She walked past Iameh and down the passageway leading off the ship. “Nice to meet you!” she called back as she left. Her heels clanged faintly on the metal floor.

Iameh turned to Iroh. Though his face was still red, he was looking after Asami Sato with a big, stupid smile on his face. Good. She liked to see him happy. He deserved that. 

“So,” she said, “gate in ten?”

“Right,” Iroh said, breaking his gaze. She turned to go. “Uh…” she heard from behind her. 

“What?” she asked, turning back slightly.

“Iameh… I, um… I have a favor to ask you.” Iroh looked uncomfortable. Even more so, that is.

“Of course, sir. Name it.”

“I…” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “You know, I would never ask you to lie,” he said finally. “But I’d consider it a favor, a personal favor, if you could re-introduce yourself to Miss Sato tomorrow.”

“Re-introduce?” Iameh didn’t know what he meant. Why would she need to re-introduce herself?

“Well… you see… Asami and I are… um… and it’s not a secret, I’d not deny it to anyone, but…”

“Best spit it out, sir,” said Iameh promptly. General Iroh, usually the most straightforward of men, had a bad habit of becoming nearly incoherent when he was nervous. Which, thankfully, wasn’t often. But when he was, she’d found it best to force him to just get it over with.

Iroh sighed, then ran one hand through his wet hair and took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Well,” he said finally, “Asami is the new civilian liaison to the RCCC. Whom, you probably already know, we are to meet tomorrow at 11.” Recognition clicked. Future Industries. That’s where Iameh had seen Asami Sato before. Iroh was apparently sleeping with the president of Future Industries, the single biggest military contractor in the Republic. Who incidentally had also just been appointed, not without controversy, to one of the more influential positions in government. Oh, dear. 

“And I thought, perhaps, it might be a little impolitic to have it be quite so transparent that she is also my girlfriend.” Iroh raised an eyebrow. “You _were_ telling me, not that long ago, that I needed to get better at politics, were you not?”

Iameh groaned inwardly. Yes, she’d told him that, but she’d meant before things got to the stage where damage control was needed. This new situation could get awkward. While the head of the RCCC hadn’t exactly hand-picked the civilian liaison, she knew Iroh’s input had been critical. If he had been involved with Asami Sato during that process as well, it could raise some eyebrows. There wasn’t any policy that prohibited that as far as she was aware, and knew Iroh would have checked, but it had all the makings of a PR nightmare and the general was not without enemies. And he’d said girlfriend, so this wasn’t going away, either. Iameh wondered briefly if he’d thought any of this through, then decided that she already knew the answer. Iroh was a very smart man, but he’d always led with his heart. On balance, it was one of the things she liked most about him.

“Of course, sir,” Iameh said. “I’ll be delighted to meet the new R-triple-C liaison with you tomorrow, and I look forward to introducing myself.” 

Iroh stuck the toothbrush back in his mouth, then smiled and gave her a salute. Iameh laughed, turned, and made her way towards the front of the ship. 

Well, this was going to be interesting. She’d find a way to smooth it over, if it came to it, but it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. That’s why he’d hired her, after all. Iroh might be bad at politics, but Iameh certainly wasn’t, and they both knew it. When he’d tapped her for the chief of staff role, she’d asked him point blank why he’d choose a woman with no legs, and a non-bender at that, as his top aide. “I’m not interested in what you don’t have,” he’d said at the time. “There are lots of people in the UF with legs. I need brains and common sense, Lt. Iameh, and those aren’t nearly as common. Let alone the ability to use them together.” She’d laughed at that. It was true enough. 

Yep, Iroh was good people. And if there’s one thing Iameh was going to do, it was make damned sure that fact didn’t get him into too much trouble.


	3. ASAMI

Asami met Iroh outside a door on the main floor of City Hall. They were both early, Asami out of habit and Iroh because of something he’d called “high ground” the previous morning but hadn’t explained. She saw he’d dressed even more carefully than usual, which for him was saying something. His chest and shoulders glittered with every medal and mark of rank he had. Asami realized she was probably going to have to learn what they meant now.

Lt. Iameh was beside him. She would have been short even standing, her tan skin and delicate features framed by wavy black hair done up in a low bun. Asami knew Iroh had gotten some comments when he appointed her, but even from their brief interaction earlier she was inclined to think he’d made the right choice. Asami liked both the fact that Iameh had come to check on him when he hadn’t been where she expected, and that she’d given him exactly the right amount of shit about it. It was clear that they respected and trusted each other. Besides, anyone who would give their legs for their team was exactly the kind of person she wanted watching Iroh’s back. By all reputation Lt. Iameh was as tough as nails, too. Apparently Iroh liked strong women. Good for him.

“Are you ready?” Iroh said, looking around quickly to make sure no one else was in earshot. “I’ll do my best to back you up if it gets rough.” He reached over her to push open the door. Asami smiled. He’d never seen her in a business meeting. Board rooms called for an entirely different kind of fire than what Iroh could bring, and Asami had come loaded for battle. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.”

The door opened onto a large space with a long central table surrounded by plush blue chairs. A wall of windows ran up the left side of the room. The flag of the Republic hung on the wall at the head of the table, with the flags of the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, and Fire Nation below it. The whole place had a stuffy, official feel to it. 

Asami walked calmly past Iroh into the room and promptly sat at the head of the table. She saw him blink in surprise. Iameh grinned. Iroh started to walk around and she shook her head. “Left,” she said. He changed direction and came around the other side, pulling out the chair directly to her left. Iameh took up a position against the window behind him.

“Why left?” he asked under his breath. Asami saw others begin to filter into the room.

“It’s less submissive, and it show’s I’ll listen to you,” she said in a whisper. There was actually quite a lot to room psychology, she’d found. Where you sat, where you leaned, posture, tone of voice; all of it could make a difference in how you were listened to and perceived. She’d been only 18 when she’d become the president of Future Industries, and she’d done her research.

“Since when do you listen to me?” Iroh said quietly. Asami kicked him under the table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lt. Iameh rub the bridge of her nose, her face simultaneously amused and exasperated.

The room was full by 11. As soon as the clock on the wall above the door struck, Asami stood. “Hello, everyone, and thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m going to start with explaining how I see the civilian liaison role and what I think are the goals for the next three months as the Republic and the United Forces strengthen their partnership through Republic City Central Command. I’ll then ask General Iroh here to speak to the current status of the reconstruction efforts and any areas of high priority where he needs my input. After that, we can discuss any changes to this plan that the two of us should take under advisement.”

An older man with a bushy white eyebrows and an even bushier white mustache broke in. Asami knew him to be the head of the Department of Ways and Transit. “Miss,” he said, “I believe that we should first start with a round of introductions. I’m—”

“I know who you are, Director Tan,” Asami said. She kept her voice firm, but polite. “I did my homework. You all meet one another weekly, and if you don’t know who I am you’re in the wrong room. We only have an hour, and I suggest we get down to business.” Iroh’s jaw dropped. Asami suppressed a smile. “So,” she said, “here is what I plan to do.”

***

The room slowly cleared. Asami walked around, shaking as many hands as she could. Overall, she thought it had gone well. In her experience, these kinds of meetings were all the same: swagger in, talk shit, and shoot faster than anyone else. She hated the whole business, but at the end of the day if you looked like her it was either hit hard out of the gate or get dismissed as soft or irrelevant. Asami knew she’d have to do some work to get some of the older men on board with her ideas, but ultimately quite a bit would be up to her and Iroh. If it came to it, she could even use Future Industries to demonstrate some of the new technology. After all, seeing is believing, and things were going well enough now that she could afford to run a little in the red.

She, Iroh, and Iameh were the last to leave. Iroh held the door for both of them, then closed it behind him. “You’re amazing,” he said to her. Asami felt herself blush. She knew she was good, but it still meant something to hear it coming from him. A lot of men might have been put off or intimidated. 

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she said. Asami had never seen Iroh in front of a crowd before, and had been impressed. He might be quiet, but he wasn’t the youngest general in the United Forces for nothing. Clear and assertive, with an uncanny ability to read the room, it was a good reminder that they’d made an excellent team long before they’d been seriously interested in one another. Okay, not that long before, but still. Any concerns that she’d had about their ability to keep things professional had evaporated.

Lt. Iameh chimed in. “I think that went as well as could be expected. General Iroh, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go prep for our next. 13:00 down in B with SEO.” She glanced quickly at Asami and smiled. “You won’t get distracted and be late, will you?”

Asami felt Iroh’s hand on her waist. “I promise,” he said, and squeezed her a little. “I’ll make sure Asami knows where the cafe is and then head down. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good, but thank you,” Iameh said, patting the pack on the side of her chair. She turned to leave. The hallway had mostly cleared by this time, anyone milling about having gone back to their desks or to a subsequent meeting. Asami looked over Iameh’s head and saw a lone figure walking towards them. He was about average height and, like Iroh, wore the red uniform of the United Forces. His short, sandy hair set off pale green eyes, and his full lips had an almost pouty look. Though Asami had only met him once, she recognized him instantly from the afternoon she’d spent running around in the rain, thinking Iroh missing or worse. Commander Cuzon, dismissive and cruel in the face of her desperation, was unlikely to be forgotten.

Cuzon stopped a few feet from them. He looked at Iroh’s hand, which was still resting casually on her waist, then back up. Iroh dropped it, but it was too late. Cuzon raised his eyebrows, then sighed. Iroh took a step towards him, subtly putting his body between her and the commander.

“My personal life is none of your business, Commander Cuzon,” he said, his voice low. “Leave it.” 

Cuzon’s eyes flicked back to Asami, then down to Lt. Iameh next to her. “Honestly, I don’t know if you’re running a command or a charity, Iroh.” He made no effort to lower his voice. “Half a soldier and the daughter of a traitor? I hope the Republic is at least getting a discount.”

Iroh hit him. 

The blow caught Cuzon on the jaw, knocking him backwards. He stumbled, but kept his balance. Asami gasped. Beside her, Iameh’s hand shot out, lightning quick, and grabbed the back of Iroh’s belt. He almost dragged her out of her chair.

“ _Outside,_ Cuzon,” Iroh said through gritted teeth. Asami saw him rub his knuckles. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it to my face. And you will leave Miss Sato and my chief of staff out of it.”

“I don’t take orders from you anymore, Iroh,” Cuzon spat. He wiped his mouth and straightened. An angry red lump was already rising on the left side of his jaw.

“That’s _General_ Iroh, Commander,” snapped Iameh.

“Lieutenant, stay out of this,” Iroh growled.

Cuzon sneered. “Pulling rank already? Figures.”

“We will disregard rank. This is clearly personal.” Cuzon gave him a curt nod, still rubbing his jaw, then turned and walked out the big double doors that led out to the street. Iroh made to follow him, but was pulled up short by Iameh, who still had him by the belt. For a slight woman, she was very strong. 

“Iroh, stop,” Asami said, finally recovering herself. Everyone thought fights were these long, choreographed events, but in her experience real violence was only a matter of seconds. Whatever was between Iroh and Cuzon, it had gone from awkward to deadly in a blink of an eye. She put a hand on his shoulder and helped Iameh pull him back.

“Asami,” he said, turning around. Iameh let go of him, although she looked unsure of the decision. Iroh took Asami’s hand off his shoulder and held it. He looked at her intently. “I have to settle this.” 

“What the hell is going on?” Asami hissed. “I’m not going to let you fight that guy, Iroh! Who cares what he thinks? He’s always been an asshole.”

“Always?” Iroh asked. He frowned at her. “You know him?”

“I met him when I first got back from…” She glanced at Lt. Iameh. Asami and Iroh’s trip to the South Pole had been a secret, and though there was no reason she herself shouldn’t have been there she’d still tried to keep it quiet to avoid any further trouble for Iroh. The less anyone knew about where and how they had gotten to know one another, the better. “When I was looking for you,” she corrected. “He was the one who told me you’d been moved off the fleet command. He also said some, um, things. Not nice things. About us.” Iroh’s face darkened. “But that was ages ago,” Asami said, worried she’d accidentally made things worse. “So he knows we’re dating, so what? Everyone will know eventually, and we agreed that we wouldn’t hide it.”

Iroh closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. “It’s not that,” he said. “I’d tell anyone who asked about us. But this thing with Cuzon, it’s been a long time coming. He’s like a hyena dog. If I don’t put him in his place now, he’ll just keep coming back. I’ve ignored him too long already. ”

“I don’t like it, Iroh. Please. Let’s just leave.” She tried to pull him the other direction. It was like pulling a boulder.

“I can’t do that,” he said. His golden eyes met hers, and his face suddenly softened. Then Iroh leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.” He turned and walked out after Cuzon.

Asami blinked, stunned. _I love you?_ _That_ was how he was going to say it? 

Lt. Iameh looked up at her. Her face was a mask. She must have heard the comment as well. “Come on, Miss Sato,” she said stiffly. “I know we can’t stop it, but we’d better at least keep an eye on them.” Asami nodded and followed Iameh to the doors, suddenly lost. 

_I love you?_


	4. IROH

Iroh pushed aside the metal doors and walked out into the bright sunlight. Cuzon was waiting for him in a wide alley down the short flight of steps. Thankfully, he had gone out a side entrance instead of onto the crowded street out front. 

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” he said. Iroh kept walking. As he did, he started unbuttoning his jacket. He took it off at the bottom of the stairs and laid it carefully on one of the railings. No sense getting it dirty if he didn’t have to, and anyway he had more freedom of movement without it.

“Terms?” he asked casually. He could already feel his adrenaline increasing, but he wanted to appear as calm and confident as possible. In his experience, that was how you handled dogs. “No rank, no seconds. I’d rather not kill you, as Iameh tells me there’s paperwork. What else?”

“Terms? I should have known you’d be too good for a street brawl, _Prince_ Iroh,” Cuzon said. “Are we doing one of your fancy Fire Nation dances then? An Agni Kai, I believe it’s called?” 

“An Agni Kai is fought with honor,” said Iroh. He cracked his knuckles, the sound loud on the empty street. “I believe that means you are disqualified, Cuzon. A street brawl seems about your level though. I accept. Now, what would you like to talk about?”

Cuzon sneered, then whipped his wrist. A long metal cord shot out from beneath his sleeve. Iroh had been expecting this, but was caught off-guard when the ground suddenly rose up beneath him. His right foot caught on the raised earth as he dodged the metal whip, and he stumbled. He decided at the last moment to go with it, turning the stumble into a forward roll. He flung one leg out as he spun and sent a jet of fire back at Cuzon. 

The blast caught the other man in the right shoulder as he raised the whip again, throwing him off-balance. He bent back, then pinwheeled his arms. Two daggers shot out of his left sleeve at deadly speed. Iroh twisted and shot a blast of fire at the flying knives, trying to blow them off course. He felt a stinging pain on his right forearm. The daggers clanged off the stone wall behind him. Iroh looked down and saw a thin cut across his arm where one had grazed him. 

“Had enough?” Cuzon called. Iroh stood slowly. 

“You wi—”

“Iroh, behind you!” Iroh dropped flat on his chest as a three foot chunk of paving stone whizzed past where his head had been. He glanced briefly towards the voice and saw Asami and Iameh at the top of the stairs. Well, as long as he was down here. He pushed himself up onto his knees and launched forward. At the same time he shoved fire out of his feet as hard as he could. He shot across the alley and collided with Cuzon’s legs. The metalbender let out a surprised grunt and went down hard. Iroh heard a satisfying thud behind him as he tucked himself into another roll, then righted himself. Cuzon was getting up as well, dirt and scratches covering one side of his face, but Iroh was faster. He moved his arms and sent two balls of fire at Cuzon’s back, knocking him down again. 

Cuzon pushed himself up onto his knees. Iroh saw that the back of his uniform jacket was burned black. Pulling punches had never been his strong suit. Then the other man flexed, and something flat and gray tore through the fabric and rocketed towards Iroh. Caught completely by surprise, he was a half second too slow. He tried to drop to the ground again, but the metal plate that had been concealed under Cuzon’s coat hit him directly in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backwards. Then the metal bent, wrapping around him like a vise. 

Iroh gasped, but couldn’t get any air. He felt for the edges of the metal with his hands, trying to pry it free. He couldn’t. He tried to stay calm, to not panic, knowing that panic would only make it worse, but his head was pounding now, his lungs demanding air. His vision started to gray out. _How paranoid do you have to be to wear armor under your coat all day?_ Iroh thought vaguely. Then pain shot through him and he fell. 

“That’s quite enough from both of you,” said a woman’s voice. He rolled onto his back and felt the metal around him relax. He sucked in air, big clean mouthfuls of it. There really wasn’t anything in the world quite so wonderful as air. Iroh lay there for a moment, panting, letting the colors bleed back into the world. Then he looked up. 

Republic City’s police chief, Lin Beifong, stood over him. Her short, iron gray hair was pulled back severely, and she looked angry. In her right hand she held a small metal device. It looked a bit like the portable flashlight that Asami had designed the previous year, but tipped with two long silver prongs. Blue sparks of electricity jumped between them. Iroh realized she must have shocked him with it. 

Chief Beifong prodded him with one gray boot. “Get up, General,” she said. Iroh got slowly to his feet, dusting himself off. The cut on his arm was bleeding, but didn’t seem serious. “Thanks,” he said, turning to the police chief. “Another minute there and I’d have—” 

Chief Beifong grabbed his arm, twisted, and cuffed his hands behind his back. 

“Lin?” he asked. 

She scowled at him. Her green eyes were hard. “Don’t ‘Lin’ me, Iroh. I expect better of you. But if you want to fight in the street like a common thug, I’m going to treat you like one.” Iroh looked around and saw Commander Cuzon, his arms restrained as well, being led towards them by another officer. Asami stood at the top of the stairs, her face drawn. She mouthed what might have been “I’m sorry.” Lt. Iameh sat next to her in stony silence. She looked, if anything, disappointed. Iroh thought she probably should be.

“Let’s go, move it,” said the chief. Then she grabbed Iroh by the shirt and half pushed, half marched him down the alley.


	5. IROH

“Don’t you think this is a bit extreme?” said Iroh. The cell door clanged shut. 

“No,” said Chief Beifong. “You and Commander Cuzon here were disturbing the peace.”

“There wasn’t anyone there. Who were we disturbing?”

“You were disturbing _my_ peace because I had to pry a metal plate off you on my lunch break,” she snapped. “Now sit down and cool off, or I’ll pull it off civil and take it up with the United Forces directly. Fighting gets you 30 days and a formal reprimand, if I’m not mistaken.”

Iroh scowled, then stalked across the cell and sat down on the small bench on the far side.

“That’s better. And if I hear anything more than a whisper out of either of you, I’m kicking it over anyway.” She turned and walked down the hallway, opening the door that led out of the small holding area of the precinct. Then she leaned back. “And Commander Cuzon, don’t bother,” she called. “The bars are pure platinum.” The door slammed shut.

Iroh rested his head on his hands, his elbows digging into his knees. He’d never been arrested before. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Iameh knew where he was, of course, and he thought—hoped—that she would handle his absence at the R-triple-C, but he wasn’t sure what she would tell them. “I’m very sorry, but General Iroh can’t be here today because he is in prison for dueling.” There was a reason he trusted these kinds of things to her though. And Asami, spirits, what did she think? Not only had he wound up locked up, he’d very clearly lost the fight. He’d finally worked up the courage to tell her he loved her, and then he’d gotten his ass kicked. _Great._

The problem was, he hadn’t really wanted to hurt Cuzon. At least not badly. Just teach him a lesson, and make sure he didn’t make trouble for Asami. Despite what Iameh thought, he wasn’t completely oblivious, and he knew that having the head of RC Command and the civilian liaison as a couple was a delicate situation. A few rumors in the wrong ears could make things very difficult for them both, especially as Asami was just starting out. 

Iroh stared down at his hands. His fingertips were rough and calloused from firebending. He moved his wrists in an outward circle, released, and his palms filled with yellow flames. They bathed the dim cell in flickering firelight. For a moment he felt like he was outside, a campfire in front of him. Then the flames went out. 

He thought again about the limitations of the art. Unlike other forms of bending, it was actually very hard to _not_ hurt someone with fire. Even small burns were painful, and when Iroh really let loose he knew he could make fire hot enough to melt metal. While that was an advantage when you were fighting for your life, it made brawls of the kind he’d had in the alley very difficult. Which is probably why he’d lost. At least, that’s what he was going to tell himself.

“Going to burn yourself out of here?” Cuzon said. Iroh glanced at the cell next to him. Commander Cuzon sat on his own bench on the far wall. He was leaning forwards, as if his back hurt. Iroh guessed it probably did. There was a white bandage across his right shoulder, and the left side of his face looked swollen. Iroh wondered if he looked much better. He flexed his forearm, his own bandage crinkling. At least they’d been patched up before being thrown in here, though without the benefit of any waterbending.

“Of course not,” Iroh said. “She’s right. It’s 30 days, officers included.”

“Not that it’ll stick to you,” said Cuzon darkly. His mouth pressed into a thin line. Iroh guessed he was probably in quite a bit of pain.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did I stutter?” 

“That doesn’t mean I understood your meaning,” Iroh said. “Stick how?”

“Like that business this spring," Cuzon said. "When we came under attack and no one could find you. You limped in hours after the assault started looking like a canyon crawler had used you for a chew toy, and had the audacity to say you’d been _camping._ And were there consequences? Oh no. Spirits forbid the son of the Firelord get so much as a slap on the wrist for dereliction of duty and lying to a commanding officer. You fucked up, Iroh, and you got fucking promoted.”

Iroh frowned. A big part of him was still surprised he hadn’t been hung for desertion. Cuzon had no idea how close it had been, and hopefully never would. “You know the promotion to the RCCC command was meant as a punishment,” he said slowly. “President Raiko associates status with combat. Probably because he’s never served himself. Taking the fleet away from me and having me sail a desk was as much of a slap in the face as he could come up with under the circumstances.”

“Then punish me any day,” said Cuzon bitterly. “You honestly think that would have been the result if it had been anyone but you?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” said Iroh. “Any of it.” 

Cuzon let out a sharp laugh. “That’s the problem. People like you don’t have to.”

“What do you mean, ‘people like me?’”

“I worked my ass off to get where I am,” Cuzon spat. “Can you honestly say the same?”

“I can,” Iroh said, stung. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and he knew it. He’d had advantages, of course, but he hadn’t taken any handouts. “Believe it or not, not everything is rigged against you. You started the fight today. You insulted the woman I love and a decorated combat veteran, both of whom have more guts in their little fingers than you have in your whole body. I’ve been in advancement meetings, Cuzon. You hold yourself back.”

“And you know why you do so well, _General_? Because you, and your mother, and your grandfather, and _his_ grandfather wrote all the rules.”

Before Iroh could respond, the outer door to the holding area opened. To his surprise, Iameh came in, followed by an officer he didn’t recognize. The officer walked over to his cell and unlocked it. “Fine's been paid, sir,” he said. “You’re free to go now.” Iroh heaved himself up off the bench and walked into the hallway. He saw Iameh had brought his jacket. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

Once outside the holding area, she lit into him. She told him how he had disgraced himself, how he’d disgraced the United Forces, that he was jeopardizing his career and hers, and that she would have left him in prison if Asami hadn’t insisted on bailing him out. The only reason Asami hadn’t come herself is because Iameh had convinced her it would be bad if the civilian liaison spent her very first day on the job paying fines at the precinct to get her counterpart out of jail. Iroh didn’t mind. Iameh was undoubtedly right about all of it, and he deserved the lecture. 

They were making their way out to the front of the building when he asked her how much the fine had been. She told him, and he started. Apparently Chief Beifong had wanted to teach him a lesson. Iroh put one hand on Iameh’s chair, stopping her for a moment. He looked around quickly, sweeping the room for the counter where citizens came to pay fines and tickets. “Give me a minute,” he said, then jogged over.

“Yes?” said a green-eyed matron with a rather severe black bob. Her name tag identified her as Wada. 

“Er… hi,” said Iroh. He glanced back at the door that led to the holding cells. “There’s a man in holding. Cuzon. I’d like to pay his fine, if I may. Anonymously.”

Wada narrowed her eyes, then checked a piece of paper on the counter next to her. “Very well,” she said.


	6. ASAMI

At first Asami had been nervous about whether Iroh would fit in with her friends. Not that she thought they wouldn’t like him. But he was stiff and quiet, especially around new people, and though barely five years older than her and Mako had always seemed like much more of an adult. 

Thankfully, she needn't have worried. Both Iroh and the rest of Team Avatar seemed to think it was important to get to know one another, and everyone made an effort. It got even easier once she and Iroh made the decision to tell her friends, in confidence, the full story of their trip to the South Pole. Korra in particular, who had called Iroh a “spineless sack of shit” the last time she’d seen him for his refusal to intervene in the war, relaxed quite a bit around him once she understood how much he’d eventually risked to help the Southern Water Tribe. However, what really wound up breaking the ice that summer was smackball.

As part of having Iroh spend more time with her friends, Asami had dragged him to a couple of pro-bending matches. He’d never be a fan the way that she was, but he admitted that he enjoyed it more than he thought he would. When asked if he would ever consider subbing for the Fire Ferrets when Mako had to work though, Iroh politely declined, saying that he’d have a hard time with a game that excluded Asami by default. Asami, touched, set about designing an alternative.

The result was smackball. 

Smackball was like volleyball in a lot of ways. Seeing that it was summer and most people wanted to spend their weekends outside, she’d intentionally started with a game that was both played on the beach and at which she was already very good. Like volleyball, players lined up on either side of a raised net, a single ball between them. However, smackball also incorporated some of the more exciting elements of pro-bending; namely, the goal being to push the other players out of bounds using a combination of physical and bending moves. Players could step “out” of the rough rectangle that made up the court twice before being eliminated. The trick was, instead of using bending to move the other players out of bounds, they could only hit one another using the ball. That kept it safe enough for Asami to play. Everything one could do to move the ball towards another player, however, was more or less fair game.

Smackball was an instant hit. It was not only exciting enough for her former pro-bender friends, but also forced them to learn to use more non-bending moves as well. Sometimes it simply made more sense to hit the ball with a fist instead of a rock or a jet of water. And Iroh, athletic by nature, seemed more relaxed and comfortable with an activity where he didn’t have to talk much. 

They played most often three to a side on the beach at Air Temple Island, with Korra, Mako, and Bolin against Asami, Iroh, and whomever else they could rope into the game, most often Meelo. Asami felt like Meelo was sometimes a bit of a liability, but he was fearless, could fly, and seemed to respect and listen to Iroh in a way that he didn’t most other adults. The first time Iroh had taken his shirt off at the beach, Meelo had asked about the two largest scars on his chest, one long one running down his right side and the other a deep gash across his ribs next to his left elbow. “Swords,” Iroh had said simply, and Meelo had been his to command ever since. Occasionally Korra switched teams to give Iroh and Asami a bit of a handicap, but they were closely matched enough that it wasn’t often.

Asami found it interesting to watch Iroh play. He’d never really used firebending recreationally before, so while he was exceptionally good at reading and anticipating the other players, he was a lot less skilled at modulating his bending. Asami had always thought he had an unusual amount of fine control over his fire, but it turned out that was mostly true for aim and very delicate things, like heating his hands to make tea or the time she’d gotten him to weld aluminum piping together. As far as real firepower was concerned, Iroh was pretty much a flamethrower with an on/off switch. It reminded her of what Katara had said about him once, that he never did anything by halves. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so often disruptive. 

“Dammit, Iroh,” said Korra after he’d burned his fourth ball one day. She held it between two fingers as it deflated sadly, one side a smoking ruin. “You’re supposed to push it, not cook it.” Iroh dug his toes awkwardly into the sand. The next day, Asami had showed up with a new ball, this one a sleek, shiny black.

“What’s that?” asked Iroh.

“An Iroh-proof smackball,” she said, and smiled. She tossed it to him and he caught it, then examined it closely.

“What’s it made of?” he said.

“It’s still a volleyball,” she said, taking off her sandals. “But I’ve triple-coated it in the same flame retardant that we’ve added to the new parachutes. It should stand up to a bit more… you.” 

Iroh grinned, then held the ball out in one hand. “May I?” Asami nodded, and Iroh brought his other hand up and coated the black ball in flame. It burned for a few seconds before he stopped. He blew on it theatrically as the flames went out. The ball seemed undamaged.

“Cool!” said Bolin, bounding down the hill that led to the beach, followed closely by Korra. “Fireproof ball, excellent. I’m not looking forward to having that hit at my face though. Oh, and Mako can’t make it today. Work stuff.”

Asami looked at Korra and raised an eyebrow. “What do you say we shake things up then?” she asked. “No Mako, no Meelo. How about two-on-two, girls vs. guys?”

“Oooh, I like that,” said Korra. She looked at Asami and rubbed her hands together. “They don’t stand a chance, do they?”

“Nope.” Asami smiled sweetly at Iroh. “Poor guys.”

“What do you mean, ‘nope’?” said Iroh. He glanced sideways at Bolin. “Are you going to listen to this?” 

Bolin smiled, then shrugged out of his shirt. “Definitely not,” he said. Iroh followed suit, and they took up their positions on either side of the net. Asami sidled up next to Korra.

“Those two,” she whispered, nodding her head across the net, “are about the nicest guys I’ve ever met. They’re going to want to take it easy on us. They can’t help themselves.”

Korra grinned. “I’m not feeling particularly chivalrous myself, though,” she said in a low voice. “Are you?”

“Not even a little bit,” said Asami.


	7. ASAMI

The tiny elevator rattled to a stop at 15. The doors hissed open. Iroh stepped out, blocking the retractable door with his body as Asami slipped out in front of him. “Left,” he said. They walked down a short hallway with faded red carpeting. Iroh stopped outside a door at the very end of the hall. Gold lettering above the knocker marked it as 1502. He shifted the paper bag he was carrying under his arm to pull a small brass key from his pocket. “It’s not much,” he said, glancing back at her.

“I’m sure it’s great,” Asami said, then smiled encouragingly. Iroh had spent almost three years in his tiny room on the command ship, and despite its obvious shortcomings it had been home to him. Perhaps even more so than for most people, given how often the ship itself had moved around from port to port. Moving to an apartment city-side might seem like a significant upgrade, especially after the fight with Cuzon, who was the battleship's captain now, but Asami knew it had been hard for him. In addition, having been in the United Forces his entire adult life, he’d never technically had a real place of his own. Whatever he’d come up with, she wanted to be supportive.

The door opened into a bright tiled entryway with a one wall kitchen on the immediate left. The cabinets were painted a warm gray a few shades lighter than the metal of Iroh’s former battleship. Past the kitchen, the apartment opened up into a large, sunny room surrounded by windows on two sides. Iroh had apparently already furnished the place with a large green couch, pale curtains, a few bookshelves, a table and chairs of some sleek dark wood, and a soft gray throw rug that more or less matched the kitchen. A balcony opened off the far wall through glass double doors. The view of the city was stunning. Asami could see the harbor and most of the southeastern shoreline, the view broken only by a few tall buildings. A hallway to her right led off to what she assumed to be a bedroom and bathroom. 

Honestly, she was surprised. The apartment was… lovely. She’d expected Iroh to try as hard as possible to replicate what he’d had aboard ship, and had anticipated something small, gray, and rather utilitarian. While money wasn’t a problem and she knew that he, like herself, could afford almost anything in the city, Iroh was a creature of habit, and had also deliberately given up the captain’s quarters on the battleship in favor of something more modest. Yet while Asami saw that the beautiful map of the Fire Nation he’d had above his bed had been mounted on the wall above the table, nearly everything else in the apartment seemed new. Perhaps even more unusual for a prince of the Fire Nation, nothing at all in the room was red. Yet it was still Iroh, all sharp clean lines and bare surfaces, with hardly a thing out of place. A fat brown book sat on the arm of the sofa, a bookmark sticking jauntily out of its top. She was surprised to see a pair of thin gray glasses perched on the cover. 

Iroh smiled nervously. “What do you think?” he asked. He was still standing by the door, evidently waiting for her reaction.

“Iroh, it’s gorgeous,” she said. He broke into a smile. “Can I see the rest of it?” She nodded to the hallway to her right.

“In a minute,” he said, hefting the paper bag onto the kitchen counter next to the stove. He walked past her into the main room, then over to one of the bookshelves. “I’d like to introduce you to my roommate first.”

 _Roommate?_ Asami followed Iroh and saw that he’d set up a fish tank in the middle of one of the shelves. A single orange fish, shaped like a flattened disk and lightly coated in white spots, floated among a forest of green plastic plants. It looked at Asami with one round brown eye, as if curious what she was doing in its ocean. The water filter burbled happily. 

“This is Ling,” said Iroh. He smiled at the fish. “I’ve never… well… I thought it might be nice. To have a pet. Now that I’m in one place, that is. I’ve never been able to.” 

Asami squatted down, then waved at the tank. She’d never had a pet before, either, and wasn’t quite sure what one was supposed to do. “Hi, Ling,” she said. The fish darted to the back behind the plastic seaweed. “Oh, I think I scared it. Her?” 

“She’ll get used to you,” Iroh said. He looked at Asami, his expression suddenly careful. “I hope that you’ll be spending some time here. That you’d want to, anyway. Be here.” She looked past Iroh to the apartment, then got it. The space. The light. The view. The green couch and soft gray rug. Green was her favorite color, though she couldn’t remember when she’d mentioned it.

“Iroh, it’s beautiful,” she said. 

“It is,” Iroh said. He wasn’t looking at the apartment. Asami felt her face grow hot. She looked away, instead walking over to the couch. She picked up the square-framed glasses on top of the book. 

“You wear glasses?” she asked, holding them up. “Since when?”

Iroh shrugged. “Sometimes,” he said. “And only for reading.”

“How come I’ve never seen them before?”

“I barely need them, so I don’t take them when I travel. And on the ship I mostly kept them hidden. Just habit, I think.”

“Why would you hide your glasses?”

Iroh sighed, then walked over to her. “UF high command is like a room full of apex predators,” he said. “We all work together when there’s a common enemy, but show any sign of weakness and they’ll turn on you. It sounds silly, but even less than perfect vision can impact your career indirectly. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” Asami thought of the first time she’d met Commander Cuzon. He’d also been wearing glasses, she recalled. One of the first things he’d done was take them off. Men were fascinating. 

“That’s stupid,” she said. She reached up and put the glasses on him. He looked good. There was something kind of sexy about them that she couldn’t put her finger on. “I like them.” 

Iroh looked down at her, his gold eyes skeptical through the thin gray frames. “I look like a nerd.” 

“You _are_ a nerd,” she said. She picked up the fat book and looked at the spine. “ _A Complete History of the Southern Earth Kingdom?_ ” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s actually really interesting,” said Iroh. He reached for the book. “Did you know they used to be independent? This was more than 500 years ago. And—”

She stood on her toes and kissed him. “ _Nerd,_ ” she whispered. She slid one arm around his waist, then up under his shirt. Asami could feel the muscles of his back, his skin so warm to the touch. She looked up at him and playfully arched an eyebrow. “You can tell me all about it later. But first, I think you were going to show me the bedroom? I do hope there’s finally room for two.” Iroh’s single bed, while cozy, had been a bit of a challenge.

“I—” Iroh looked back at the kitchen to the paper bag on the counter. “I was going to make you dinner. I bought knives. I didn’t know there were so many kinds of knives.” 

“The knives will still be there,” Asami said. “I promise.” She moved her hand around and pulled gently at the buckle of his belt. Iroh’s head snapped back. He suddenly seemed very interested in her mouth. He moved to take the glasses off, but Asami grabbed his arm. “No, no,” she said, and gave him a slow smile. “Leave them on.”


	8. ASAMI

Iroh had been unusually quiet the entire drive. He had never been chatty, but this was quiet even for him. She glanced over at him in the passenger seat. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he said tersely. She didn’t believe him for a second. Asami looked over again and studied his face. His expression was rigid, his golden eyes a little too wide. It suddenly struck her that Iroh looked nervous. But he was Fire Nation royalty, not to mention the top general. Certainly he’d had to do events like these before, and often. 

“You don’t seem fine.”

Iroh mumbled something next to her and looked down. This was so unlike him. He was usually so direct and confident. It was one of the things she liked about him. Iroh generally did and said what he believed was right and, though always polite and respectful, didn’t seem to care much what others thought of it. This Iroh, the one staring at his feet as she drove through the darkened streets, seemed a different man entirely. After everything he’d seen and done in his career, the things he’d faced, Iroh was apparently scared... of a party?

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d met friends of hers, either, though she supposed Tachi and his crowd were barely friends anymore. Though he’d seemed a bit concerned about getting to know the members of Team Avatar better, there Iroh had been determined, even excited. While he’d probably always be slow to warm up to people, especially compared to Bolin and Korra, he’d also unmistakably come as himself. In fact, the only times she’d really seen him flustered were around sexual topics or public displays of affection—she got the impression that the Fire Nation was a bit conservative, and that Iroh himself had, for whatever reason, some hangups in this area. But they were completely alone in her satomobile, and though Tachi might be a bit over the top it wasn’t like they were going to an orgy. She had no idea what his problem was tonight.

Asami decided to drop it. If Iroh needed something from her, he’d say it. 

Instead she turned down a wide, leafy street and then slowed. Both sides of the street were lined with enormous mansions set back from white or black iron gates. A few houses in Asami turned right, then pulled up into the circular drive of a bright white house almost as large as the Sato estate. She parked under a broad awning framed by doric columns which had been decorated with blue string lights for the occasion. Iroh immediately hopped out, then walked around and opened her door. She didn’t let him do that most of the time, and had never understood that part of guys, but she knew he liked it and thought perhaps it would shake him out of whatever mood he was in. 

Iroh smiled and held out his hand, pulling her out into the warmth of the early evening. He’d dressed formally for the occasion, as had she, though he’d left most of the insignia and indicators of rank off his red uniform jacket. Few here would know what they meant, and those who did of course already knew who he was. But he looked sharp; perhaps even a little too good. It really wasn’t fair to the other men. Or women, for that matter. Asami herself had worn an ankle length dress of deep burgundy with an elegant ruffle over one shoulder. These kinds of events were a bit hard; on the one hand, they were very dress-to-impress, but it also wasn’t like anyone would still be in their clothes later on. She opened the back door and grabbed the small bag containing their suits and towels, which Iroh promptly took from her.

A young man in a black tuxedo approached them. “Keys?” he asked, looking at Iroh. He either hadn’t seen them get out or was being willfully ignorant. 

Asami stepped forwards and pressed the keys into his palm. “It’s a six-speed,” she said. “Be careful.” The young man blinked uncomfortably, then nodded. Not a lot of people knew how to drive the really high-end satos, and she was always careful to remind them. Asami had almost driven her new racing satomobile just to show off—it was gorgeous, not that anyone here would really appreciate it—but had changed her mind at the last minute when she’d remembered that the Hamadas would almost certainly have a valet. _No one_ drove the new sato. She hadn’t even let Iroh do much more than touch it, though to his credit he’d known not to ask. Iroh was a bit of a menace, and the few times she’d taken him racing he’d only gotten satomobiles that already had scratches. 

Iroh started to take her arm, then paused. While they weren’t exactly hiding their relationship, they’d also made a point not to flaunt it. It wasn’t like they could pretend they hadn’t come together, or weren’t leaving together, and they’d almost certainly spend a lot of the night in each other’s company. At the same time, there were plenty of people who would be uncomfortable with the idea of the General of the United Forces dating the president of Future Industries, let alone the head of Republic City Central Command dating the United Republic Civilian Liaison. And though he wasn’t here, Tachi’s Hamada’s father was the Fire Nation ambassador, which meant there’d be more than the normal number of Fire nationals here tonight. Anything Iroh did would probably get particular scrutiny.

Asami reached out and found Iroh’s hand. He clutched at her, his rough fingertips pressing into the back of her hand. She squeezed back once, then walked to the door and knocked. 

Another tuxedoed young man opened the door. He bowed, first to her, then to Iroh. “Names?” he said. Asami told him, and he checked them against a list he pulled from his pocket. He nodded, then led them down a short hallway into a large, open room. Like the outside of the house, it was almost completely white. Two large marble staircases framed with wrought iron railings curved gently up around a central hallway. The areas off to either side opened up into additional rooms, one of which looked like a dining room and the other some kind of lounge. As outside, the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling had been decorated with tiny blue lights. Directly in front of them, a low black table had been adorned with a black bowl full of snow-white lilies. To Asami it all looked a bit like a funeral. 

“May I take your bag down to the bathhouse, sir?” the tuxedoed man asked as they approached the table. Iroh nodded and handed him the bag. “And you, miss?” He asked, turning to Asami. “Did you have a bath bag?” 

“Oh, my things are in there, too.” Well, if it wasn’t completely obvious they were together, it was now. Not many friends shared a clothing bag. 

“I’m sorry, miss. Changing rooms are single sex.” He produced a second bag from a stack by the wall. “One of you will need to re-pack.”

“I’ll do it,” Iroh said, grabbing the bag. He rummaged around in their bag and pulled out his things, then neatly re-packed them in the new bag. He handed both back to the young man, who gave them each a small silver key with a number etched into the side. 

“These are your locker keys,” he said. “Your things will be inside.” He turned and gestured down the hallway between the staircases. “Mr. Hamada and the other guests are right through there. Enjoy your evening, and happy solstice.”

***

“Asami!” Tachi threw himself into a hug, the drink in his hand sloshing a little onto her arm. “Oh, this is amazing! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Sometimes it felt like Tachi only spoke in exclamation points. He was shorter than Asami, with deep golden eyes and close-cropped brown hair he wore spiked in the front, a bit like Mako. He’d donned a full Northern Water Tribe suit for the event, a light blue silk robe trimmed with white satin and gray leather slippers. The combination was odd; but then again, so was Tachi. He took a step back, then pointedly looked Iroh up and down. “And General Iroh, what a surprise! I believe the last time I included you in my little fête you declined. I’m glad I’ve finally tempted you sufficiently.” He cast a wicked glance at Asami. “Or someone has.”

“Stuff it, Tachi,” Asami laughed. “How are you?”

“Languishing,” he drawled. He took her arm and dragged her further into the room, Iroh close on their heels. “My father has me clerking in the embassy now. It’s dreadful. I haven’t had a vacation in weeks. Honestly, if I hadn’t had this party to look forward to I don’t know how I would have survived the month. Why did no one tell me being an adult was so terribly dull?” Tachi turned back to Iroh. “I honestly don’t know how you do it, General.”

“Which part?” Iroh asked. 

“Spirits, any of it! Honor, duty, serving the Fire Nation. I haven’t lived there since I was five, why should I care who they trade with?” 

Iroh opened his mouth, but Tachi continued uninterrupted, as if he’d never asked the question at all. “And _you,_ ‘Sami dear, I hear you’re doing the same? Nothing but work, work, work, and on purpose, no less! I always figured after school you’d land some gorgeous older man who was absolutely loaded and then spend the rest of your life doing calculus while you watched some half-naked pool boy polish your motorbike.” He grinned at her again and tipped his head back towards Iroh. “Though there’s still time, of course.”

“I happen to like the R-triple-C,” Asami said, ignoring the jibe as Iroh colored. “And I love Future Industries. Not everyone can be as spectacularly idle as you, Tach.” 

“I’m the best in the business,” Tachi said with an exaggerated bow. “Now, I need to go welcome my other guests, but please, my home is your home. Lot’s of the old crowd around, for better or worse. Dinner is at seven at the tables up here, and the baths will open shortly after. Everything else is set up outside. Until dinner”—he winked at her, then looked at Iroh again and smirked—“help yourself to whatever you’d like.” 

“ _That_ is Tachi Hamada?” Iroh whispered as they made their way down the short flight of stairs that led out into the gardens. 

“That’s Tachi, all right,” Asami said. “Do you know his father well?”

“Very. They call him Iron Hamada, and not without reason. I’d never have imagined his son was such a… a...” Iroh trailed off, as if searching for the right word.

“Twit?” Asami said helpfully. 

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

Asami sighed. “Tachi is all right. He’s a lot smarter than he looks. He was in all the advanced math and science with me at the academy, that’s how we know each other. But he was the kind of kid who could always do well without trying. So he doesn’t. Maybe something about having a dad called ‘Iron Hamada’ makes you want to live life to the fullest, or maybe it was spending so much time with the Northern Water Tribe before they moved here, I don’t know. He’s always been like that. I thought maybe he’d straighten out after school, find something to dig into, but he never did.” 

She looked up at Iroh. He said nothing, but she knew he was listening. There weren’t a lot of people who could show they were listening with only their eyes, but Iroh was one of them. “A lot of people dropped me after my father was arrested,” she said. “Tachi didn’t. We’re different people now, but I owe him for that.”

“Anyone who would set you aside is an idiot,” Iroh said. Asami smiled. He always said things like that so factually, as if no one could possibly think otherwise. “If Tachi Hamada isn’t one of them, that’s certainly a point in his favor. It’s good to know that.”

They made their way down into the gardens and out towards the baths. Long tables had been set up on either side of the carefully manicured grass, as well as a large number of smaller tables set with long blue or white cloths and more black bowls of white lilies. Most of the other guests had gathered out here, the women dressed more or less like Asami, the men in suits and ties, with the exception of a few people dressed in more traditional water tribe garb as Tachi had been. Iroh appeared to be the only person in uniform. More young men in tuxedos wove in and out of the crowd—and they were, she noticed, all young men—carrying trays of drinks and appetizers. Tiny blue lights on long strings crisscrossed the area above the lawn, bathing the crowd in a dim azure glow. 

Beyond the lawn were the baths. Calling them baths was a bit of an understatement though. The entire back gardens of the Hamada estate had been expertly crafted to resemble the various pools and hot springs of the far north, but with the sub-tropical twist that Republic City’s climate afforded. The effect was stunning. Long, shrub-lined stone pathways ended in a patchwork of rocky pools of different temperatures, each large and deep enough for a dozen people. They had been sculpted to look natural, with seating along the edges in the form of smooth stone shelves and waterfalls that cascaded gently over layered rock. All around the pools the garden bloomed in the summer night, filling the world with the smell of orange blossom and jasmine. Prior to his assignment in the United Republic, Mr. Hamada had been the Fire Nation’s ambassador to the Northern Water Tribe for nearly a decade. The story was that when he’d finally been re-assigned he’d missed the North Pole so much that he’d commissioned the most highly skilled earthbenders and gardeners to recreate the landscape. Raised mostly in the north himself, his son Tachi’s annual summer solstice party had become legendary.

Iroh seemed to have loosened up a bit, but as they approached the baths she could see him tense. Interesting. She didn’t know quite what to make of that, not in the least because Iroh was generally the first one in any body of water they encountered. But seeing it was making him uncomfortable she steered them over to one of the tall tables instead. Iroh smiled a little, then scanned the food and beverage offerings discerningly. “What can I get you?” he asked.

Asami grinned. Iroh was always stealing food off her plate, so the idea of him getting anything just for her was laughable. He also had a bad habit of forgetting to eat, then winding up starving once he finally remembered. So what he probably meant was, “please let me get two plates of food and pretend one is for you.” Funny how, though they hadn’t been together all that long, she already knew that.

“Surprise me,” she said. 

***

The dinner was surprisingly formal. Carefully lettered name plates had been arranged along two white tables decorated with light blue china and fine cut crystal. Asami and Iroh had technically been invited independently, so it was either pure luck or some fast thinking on Tachi’s part that they wound up seated diagonally from one another. Asami had come prepared to introduce Iroh around, but it had turned out that between Fire Nation high society and his various interactions with governments he knew quite a few people already. This meant that prior to dinner they’d mostly split up, Asami focusing on reconnecting with old friends while Iroh said a polite hello to his various acquaintances. So, though they couldn’t talk much, it was a nice surprise to be seated so close to him at dinner.

The dinner itself was delicious and pleasant. Asami always appreciated good food, and credited Korra with getting her into water tribe dishes. The people seated around her were all about her own age, and had been on the fringes of Tachi’s crowd at school. While it soon became clear they didn’t have much in common these days, they easily filled the time with reminiscing and catching up on mutual acquaintances. 

Still, as dinner progressed Asami could see Iroh becoming more and more uneasy. The nervous look was back on his face, and though he’d struck up a conversation with the people around him as well, by the time their plates were cleared for dessert he’d slowly settled into a heavy silence. 

Perhaps if she got his mind on something else? The tables were packed in order to accommodate all of the guests, which meant that they were all sitting rather close together. Carefully, making sure that she got the right person, Asami stretched out her leg under the table and ran one black spiked heel up the inside of Iroh’s calf. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Asami continued to talk as if nothing had changed, leaving her foot resting on the top of his knee. Soon she felt Iroh’s hand, his rough fingertips gently caressing her ankle.

Dessert was some kind of chocolate cake that almost looked too delicate to be real. As Iroh took a bite she leaned forwards a little, moving her foot up his leg so that the tip of her shoe just brushed the inside of his upper thigh. He missed the spoon. 

“What are you doing?” he mouthed at her.

Asami looked at him blankly, simultaneously moving her foot a little. With her other hand she brought her own spoon to her mouth and slowly licked the icing off. “Mmm, that’s good.”

Iroh closed his eyes and swallowed hard. At least he didn’t look nervous anymore. Then she felt his hand close around her foot… and take her shoe? Iroh opened his eyes and positively smirked. Asami cocked her head in question, then went to take another bite of cake. Just as the spoon touched her lips she felt Iroh run his thumb up the sole of her foot. She yelped and yanked her foot out of his grip, at the same time smearing chocolate frosting all over the end of her nose. When she looked up everyone around them was staring at her. 

Asami wiped her nose with her napkin, her face burning. She glanced up at Iroh to see him shaking with suppressed laughter. 

All right. This was war.

Asami managed to keep it up the entire next hour, the time between the end of dinner and the official opening of the baths. It became almost like a game. How many times, and in how many ways, could she touch Iroh without the other guests noticing? The more suggestively, the better. If at any point he’d told her no or seemed embarrassed, she would have stopped. But he didn’t. In fact, she got the impression that he’d turned it into his own game, strategically placing himself in different locations as they circulated to see what she’d do. Leave it to Iroh to turn a cocktail party into a competition. Not that she was any better.

Tachi announced the opening of the baths promptly at 10. His speech was short and to the point, thanking everyone for coming and encouraging guests to don their swimming attire and partake of the time-honored Northern Water Tribe tradition of midnight bathing. Asami found her locker and changed with the rest, but when she came outside at first she couldn’t find Iroh anywhere. Finally she spotted him in the farthest corner of the lawn, talking to two people who also hadn’t yet changed into swimwear. Hmm. Nearly everyone had headed straight for the pools, seeing as that was the main event, and he was now one of only a handful of people who seemed to have no intention of swimming. 

Asami couldn’t figure it out. Iroh loved swimming. But perhaps he’d just gotten distracted. She decided not to press him, instead heading for the baths herself in search of someone else to talk to, trying not to be too disappointed. After all, she’d have him all to herself later.

***

“I honestly don’t know why you didn’t sell,” Tachi said. He’d joined the hot pool where Asami lounged with Su Li Lim and Bao Hui, two of her closer school friends that she’d realized she hadn’t actually seen in months. “Varrick Industries would have snapped the company up in a second. You’d be set for life, if you aren’t already, and with no parents to make you clerk at the embassy, either.” Asami felt herself stiffen a little at that. It was clear Tachi had had quite a bit to drink, but still. She’d thought he was better than turning one dead and one incarcerated parent into a mandate for limitless fun.

“And you’re working with the city, too?” Bao asked, brushing her long dark hair off her shoulder. “Why on earth are you doing that? We hardly see you anymore.” Bao hadn’t added that the number of invitations including Asami had dropped off considerably since the battle with the Equalists.

“I like keeping busy,” Asami replied, deciding not to mention it. “I’m proud of what I’ve done with Future Industries, and it’s been nice to have something to focus on since… you know.” She shrugged. “Otherwise I’d just be rolling around by myself in that giant house. It’s good to have something to do, and it turns out I’m good at it.”

“Asami is clearly not rolling around by herself,” Su Li said, glancing across the lawn to where Iroh was standing with a small knot of people. “At least I certainly hope not. You're being sly about it, but I saw you come in together, and he's been looking at you all night like he wants to eat you.” 

“Seriously, please tell me you’re hitting that,” said Bao. She took a sip of her drink, some kind of glowing green cocktail that looked to Asami like radiator fluid.

“And please tell me if you’re not,” Tachi said, raising his eyebrows. “My father thinks very highly of Prince Iroh, but now that I see him I won’t let that count against him. Too much.”

“It’s a shame he’s so awfully boring,” sighed Bao. She cast a long look at Iroh. “Not saying I wouldn’t go there, but still. It’s like the Fire Nation royal line only had so much charm and by the time they got to him they’d run out.”

“What?” It was all Asami could think of. Iroh was one of the most charming, not to mention interesting, people she knew.

“Oh, you know,” said Su Li, stretching her leg up out of the water to watch the steam curl off it. “His brothers are a lot of fun, but it’s like you can’t get two words out of this one. When I summered in Caldera two years ago I went to every royal event worth going to.” Short and cute, Su Li was royalty herself, being a first cousin of Prince Wu, the crown prince of the Earth Kingdom. She never tired of highlighting this fact. “Prince Iroh hardly came to any of them, and when he _was_ there all he did was follow his girlfriend around looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. I was actually embarrassed for her, poor thing, though of course I know why she put up with it. Once you’ve got a prince in tow, I imagine you can put up with quite a lot.”

Tachi snorted. “Not that it did her much good. I heard he dumped her because he was tired of going to parties.” This was news to Asami. Iroh hadn’t really talked about his previous relationships, and she hadn’t asked. “I can’t say I understand it,” he continued. “If I spent that much time on a ship I’d be just dying to let loose.”

“This _is_ Prince Iroh letting loose,” Bao laughed. “He’s here, isn’t he? Poor ‘Sami taking one for the team so we can all have a look. And don’t get me wrong, he is very nice to look at. I’ve always liked those uniforms.” 

Su Li rolled her eyes at Bao, then smiled at Asami. “Oh, don’t listen to her. It’s a great move, especially for someone like you. Just don’t let him drag you down too much. I’d hate to think of you all shut up with no one but Prince Iroh for company, no matter how yummy he is.”

Asami put her drink down on the rock ledge, hard. “Maybe Iroh doesn’t talk to you because you’re not worth talking to,” she said sharply. Without waiting for a reply she grabbed her towel, climbed out of the pool, and stalked off down the path. She headed off into the gardens in no particular direction, looking just to get away. Asami heard someone call her name and she went even faster, too angry to make up with anyone just yet.

She walked for a while, taking turns at random, going in whatever direction seemed to have the fewest people. Eventually Asami found herself at the far end of the gardens at the end of a secluded path. There were no pools here, just a white stone bench surrounded by a thick stand of rhododendrons. She wrapped her towel around her waist and sat. 

She was still livid. Asami knew she’d moved in a different direction than a lot of her old school and society friends, and that she’d never enjoyed these kinds of soirées as much as they had. In fact, before she and Iroh had gotten together, when they’d just been friends, one of the things she’d looked forward to most was running into him at events just like these so she’d have someone to laugh with. But she hadn’t realized just how empty it all was, or that seemingly no one else saw Iroh that way. It made her wonder what they said about her when she wasn’t around, too.

A shadow fell across her. Asami looked up with a ready retort to find not one of her former friends, but Iroh. “Asami?” he said, his face full of concern.

“Hi.” 

“Did something happen?”

“No, it’s fine.” 

He came and sat beside her on the bench. She could feel the warmth of him and scooted closer. Iroh wrapped an arm around her back. 

“Careful, I’m wet,” she said.

She felt him shrug. “It’s just water. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Asami nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I guess… I don’t know. I can’t believe I used to like parties like this. People like this.”

“People change,” said Iroh. “People grow. It’s a good thing, I think. Who wants to be the same person they were five years ago, or even two? I know I don’t.” 

“It feels like growing up is nothing but losing things,” Asami sighed. “Or outgrowing them, or something.”

“Maybe that’s how you make space for new things.” 

She’d never thought about it like that. What if drifting apart from a Bao or a Su Li had made space for a Korra or a Bolin, or even an Iroh? She might not have spent nearly as much time with Team Avatar if she’d had to share that time with her old society crowd. Asami leaned against Iroh, melting into the warmth of his body, the feeling better than any heated pool. “Mmm,” she said, settling her head comfortably on his shoulder, “I love you.”

She felt Iroh stiffen. Then a quiet voice. “You do?” And Asami realized she’d never actually said that, at least out loud. After the fight with Commander Cuzon last month, neither had Iroh. Somehow she’d just assumed that he knew. 

She pulled back and looked up at him. He was gazing at her with something like awe, the corners of his mouth turned up in a disbelieving smile. “Yes, I do,” Asami said. She covered his hand in hers. “Iroh, I love you.”

Iroh laughed a little, his gold eyes sparkling. “All right then,” he chuckled. “I love you, too.” He reached his other hand up to brush her hair behind her ear, then ran his finger down the side of her neck. “What am I going to do with you now?”

Asami leaned in until her face was only an inch from his. “I’m sure a smart guy like you will think of something,” she whispered. 

Ten minutes later they were still at it. Iroh placed a string of hot kisses down the side of her neck as she gently bit his left earlobe. Spirits, they were in trouble. She was almost straddling him now, one leg bent over his knees, his uniform jacket unbuttoned. Asami herself had kept everything on, but Iroh’s hands roamed freely over her damp swimsuit in a way that was anything but gentlemanlike. His lips found hers again and she kissed him deeply, savoring the faint taste of chocolate cake. As she did, she slipped her hand into the front of his pants. She’d half expected Iroh to pull away then, that she’d finally crossed a line, but he only sighed against her mouth. She had, after all, been teasing him all evening. He might not have enough willpower left to tell her no. From what she found in the pants, it certainly didn’t feel like a no.

Asami heard a short laugh behind her. She jerked her hand back reflexively and pushed off of Iroh. “Asami Sato with her hand in the cookie jar,” drawled a man’s voice. “I never would have believed it.” She looked up to see a tall, thin figure standing at the end of the path. He held up both hands, palms out, his face twisted with mocking glee. “Oh dear, don’t stop on account of me. I dare say the general was enjoying that.”

Iroh started to stand, his red face hard, but Asami put her hand on his chest. “Shut up, Tahno,” she said to the newcomer. “I never cared what you thought, and nothing’s changed since school. Go crawl under a rock with your own kind.”

“Witty as ever, I see,” Tahno said, tossing his head slightly to shake dark wavy hair out of his eyes. He sauntered towards them, apparently either not reading Iroh’s body language or deciding not to care. “It’s good to see you, ‘Sami. It’s been so long I thought you’d forgotten us.”

“Actually, I _had_ forgotten you, Tahno. And I will again in about five minutes. My head is simply too full of real benders.” She ran her hand over Iroh’s shoulder suggestively and Tahno stiffened. _Good. Asshole._

“Never would have pegged you for a tease,” Tahno said. “My, how you’ve grown. Where’s the little mathlete I remember? But if you’re interested in real benders, well…” He looked her up and down slowly. “You were always Tier 2, but I suppose I’d consider it.”

Iroh tried to stand again but Asami held him back. “Let me handle him,” she hissed. She didn’t want another incident like the one with Commander Cuzon, and not in the least because Iroh could probably actually kill someone like Tahno. He might be a powerful waterbender, but he was also an arrogant asshole who’d probably never been in a real fight, let alone with someone like Iroh. 

Asami stood and walked slowly over to Tahno. She gave him a slow smile, then held out her hand. Tahno grinned a wicked little grin and took it. “That’s what I—”

As soon as his fingers closed in hers she spun, stepping forwards at the same time as she twisted. She yanked Tahno’s arm with her and, with one smooth motion, stepped behind him and pinned it behind his back. “Bend this,” she snapped, and pulled upwards on his arm. Tahno yelped. “Now, are you going to behave?”

“Ow! Ow ow ow okay hey ow!” 

“What’s that, Tahno? Did you say ‘the Wolfbats are dirty cheaters’?” She pulled his arm a little higher.

“Ow! Yes! Yes okay fine yes.”

“Say it.” 

“Shit, okay, the Woflbats are dirty cheaters!” Asami gave one final pull, then let go. Tahno rubbed furiously at his arm, looking at Asami with a combination of fear and surprise as if he still didn’t quite understand what had happened. She narrowed her eyes at him and was glad to see him flinch slightly. 

She turned back to Iroh, who was staring at her from the bench, eyes wide. “Feel like a walk?” Iroh nodded and got to his feet, his surprise fading as he broke into a smile. He buttoned his jacket, then walked towards them. But when he got to Tahno he paused to stare down at him. Tahno was the same height as Iroh, but somehow it was down all the same. Iroh said nothing, just looked at him. Five seconds went by. Iroh didn’t move. Tahno swallowed. Iroh nodded slightly, then kept walking. 

Asami took his hand and led him back down the path towards the house. They took their time, seemingly neither of them excited to rejoin the party.

After a while, Iroh spoke. “What’s a mathlete?” he asked.

Asami snorted. “Exactly what it sounds like. Competitive math. You didn’t have those?”

“Didn’t go to school,” he said. “We always had masters. Not that I would have been one. I’m all right at math, but it wasn’t my best area.” 

“I didn’t think you were bad at anything.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say I was _bad_ at math. And of course I’m bad at things. Quite a few, actually.”

“Like what?”

He smirked at her. “You can’t expect me to tell the woman I’m trying to woo what I can’t do. It’s counter-productive.”

Woo? Considering she’d had her hand down his pants not ten minutes ago, right after she’d told him she loved him, Asami wasn’t entirely sure what else Iroh thought he needed to do. “Well,” she said slowly, seeing that he was finally in a good mood, “can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you want to go swimming? It’s kind of the whole point of tonight.”

Iroh colored a little. “I didn’t come for the swimming,” he said. “I came because you asked me.”

“That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer. And it’s not like you can’t swim or anything. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a waterbender the way you’re always the first one in.” She squeezed his hand a little. “Please? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Iroh squeezed back, then sighed. “I… I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

Of all the answers he could have given, this was the one she’d least expected. “Embarrass me how?”

“All the scars,” he said quietly. “These people? I might not know all of them, but I know them all the same. I’ve been around them my whole life, in one form or another. It’s different from Korra and them, they aren’t fighters. Looks matter. And I didn’t want them thinking you were with someone damaged.”

Asami had no idea what to say to that it was so insane. “Iroh,” she said finally, “do you know why I wanted you to come here tonight?”

“Because you needed a date?” 

Asami shook her head. “No. Because a part of me wanted to show you off. I know we’re keeping it low key, and I don’t need to impress Tachi and all them, but if I did, I’d start with you on my arm. And taking your shirt off in no way detracts from that. I promise.” She met his eyes and traced a little X over her heart. “I’m proud of how you got those scars. I’m proud to be seen with you. Here or anywhere else.”

Iroh pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Okay,” he said. 

“So how about it? Join me for a quick dip before we go? I’d like the company.”

Iroh paused a moment. “All right,” he said finally. He gazed down at her and smiled. “Grab me a snack while I change?”

"Sure. What do you want?"

His smile widened. "Surprise me."


	9. IROH

Iroh sat stretched out on the couch, _A Complete History of the Southern Earth Kingdom_ propped up on his chest. The author hadn’t been kidding about the title. The level of detail in the piece was staggering, especially considering that the southern part of the Earth Kingdom remained one of the most remote parts of the continent. He’d had no idea that such an arid, seemingly barren land could be so interesting, especially politically. Asami was probably right. He really was a nerd.

He reached up to rub the bridge of his nose and poked himself in the face with his own glasses. He’d been wearing them more and more in the evenings after Asami had made it abundantly clear she didn’t consider them a weakness, but he still wasn’t quite used to expecting them on his face. Iroh wondered darkly if this was a sign of getting older. He’d be 25 in less than a month, a fact that kept creeping up on him. 

He glanced over to where Asami sat hunched over the table, doing something to… something. Iroh honestly didn’t have a clue what he was looking at. A series of small silver disks, about the size of large coins, were set out before her on top of several sheets of newspaper. The tops of the disks seemed to have been welded to little gray cakes of a similar size. As he watched, Asami picked up one of the coin-and-cake combinations, smeared something on the back of the coin side, and then set it gently on top of a flattened gold band about the thickness of his finger. The band had been bent into a C shape, and the combination now resembled something rather like a wristwatch. Iroh’s best guess was that Asami was wiring a bunch of bracelets to explode. He certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. 

“Ah,” she said, picking the band up and shaking it slightly. The coin remained stuck to it. “Okay.”

“Are you going to tell me what those are yet?” Iroh asked. Asami had kept her latest project very hush hush and had refused to answer any of his questions, despite whatever she was doing taking up nearly his entire dining room table for over a week. He hadn’t pushed her though. The truth was, he liked having Asami here, even when they weren’t doing anything together. Although he’d lived alone for the past several years and liked his space, he’d grown up in a large family as part of an even larger household. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having someone he loved just... around. Asami puttering over at the table night after night, dressed casually in sweatpants with her hair in a ponytail, made the whole place feel more like home. Given that she had an entire workshop at her disposal at the estate but had chosen to set up shop in his living room, he suspected that she liked it, too. Lucky him.

“You’re familiar with pressure mines?” Asami asked, poking gently at the join between the disc and the band with the tip of her finger.

Iroh started. “Please don’t tell me you brought live mines into my house,” he said quickly. He didn’t really think she would, of course he didn’t, but it didn’t hurt to confirm that, either. Sometimes Asami’s notion of what constituted dangerous mecha was a bit less… conservative than his own.

She held up a hand. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s more the principle. Push on something, a trigger engages, and some kind of tension or charge in the device releases. Here, it’s easier if I show you.” She picked up one of the devices and slipped it on her hand so that the gold band wrapped around the back. The cake-shaped piece sat snugly in the middle of her palm, facing out. It was actually rather pretty, Iroh thought. It wouldn’t look out of place as a fashion accessory, especially from the top. “Throw something at me,” Asami said.

“Excuse me?”

“Throw something at me. Come on.” Iroh marked his place in the book, looked around, then took the pillow out from under his back. He tossed it at Asami in a high arc. She stuck out her hand, then flicked her wrist upward, palm out. A blast of some unseen force hit the pillow as it descended, sending it rocketing back across the room. It smacked into the far window with a thump, then fell to the floor.

“Wow,” said Iroh, looking at where the pillow had fallen. It turned out that his guess about exploding bracelets hadn’t been that far off. He had no idea how Asami had managed to fit so much power into something so small, nor how she could have triggered it without hurting herself. The recoil on that alone should have broken her wrist. But it hadn’t.

“I’m still tinkering with the design, but that’s the general idea,” said Asami. “They’re charged kinetically, too, so moving your wrist back and forth builds up the charges. That way you can just keep it on instead of replacing parts or batteries.” She looked rather smug. Who wouldn’t be? Unless Iroh was very much mistaken, Asami had just created a palm-sized version of basic airbending. “I think they’ll really up my smackball game.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“Smackball,” she said, taking the device off and laying it carefully back down on the newspaper. “I wanted a bit more power in the serve, and we technically haven’t banned mecha in the rules, so I made these smackball paddles. I think I’ll try them this weekend.”

“Asami,” Iroh said. He sat up more and looked at her. “Are you saying that you invented hand-sized, uni-directional, safe and wearable pressure mines and your intent is to use them for _smackball?_ ”

Asami shrugged, her attention back on the devices. She adjusted something with what looked like the miniature screwdriver that had come with his glasses. Knowing Asami, it probably was. She didn’t trust him with tools and had probably adopted it out of pity. “If you want my smackball paddles for the United Forces I suggest you take it up with the president of Future Industries tomorrow,” she said, not looking up. “I happen to know that she accepts bribes in the form of lunch at Arashiyama with handsome young men.”

Iroh smiled. “I’ll see if I can find any.”

Asami wadded up a piece of newspaper and threw it at him.


	10. ASAMI

“You didn’t have to do this with me.”

“You didn’t have to do it either. Technically, I’ve known Tenzin and Pema a lot longer than you have.” Asami thought about that. She forgot sometimes that the airbenders were family friends of Iroh’s. 

The ferry bumped gently into the dock and they got off. Asami looked up the hill to see Korra stalking down to meet them. Ronan, now about one, was tucked under her left arm like a sack of flour. Asami heard shouts from the top of the hill. Korra glanced back, then quickened her pace. As she got closer, she noticed the Avatar looked tired. Her hair hung limp around her face, and it looked like she may have slept in her clothes, if at all. She moved Ronan out from under her arm and thrust him at Asami.

“Tag,” she said. Iroh reached over and grabbed the baby instead. Korra looked back towards the shouts again, her brow furrowing. “Have fun, you two.” Then she hurried onto the ferry. Iroh glanced aside at Asami, Ronan now more or less sitting on his arm. Then he looked up the hill.

“Two on four,” he said grimly. “I’ve faced worse odds. And Tenzin is back tomorrow. They do this every day. I’m one of four myself. My parents did fine. How hard can it be?” He almost seemed to be trying to convince himself.

“The longer we’re down here,” said Asami, “the more destruction is happening up there. Come on.”

For all Korra’s exasperation, it turned out to be not that bad. Asami suspected that having two of them instead of just one helped quite a bit. Tenzin and Pema’s daughters, Jinora and Ikki, were so thrilled to have what they called a “real girl” around that they followed her everywhere, peppering her with questions. Could she help them have wavy hair? What was it like to have a job? What had happened to the other guy that she and Korra had both liked, and why did neither of them like him now? Why did Iroh have so many muscles, and is that why she liked him better? Was she a princess? Was she going to be a princess? It was exhausting, but there was no harm in it, and it at least kept the two of them in sight. Iroh, with the younger children, had a bit of a harder time. Meelo had seemingly endless energy, but Ronan could barely walk, so keeping the boys together was tough. Iroh finally settled on a game he called “Soldier,” which, as far as Asami could tell, consisted of him giving Meelo a series of increasingly ridiculous orders in a very commanding voice and then watching him complete them while Ronan chewed happily on his shoelaces.

After a few hours they settled down to dinner, the kids thankfully almost as worn out as either of the adults. The little airbenders seemed surprised that Iroh had cooked instead of Asami, and even more surprised that it tasted good. He was also able to use a modified version of the soldier game to get them to do the dishes. Iroh’s little sister was more than ten years his junior, and it seemed like he was able to put that experience to good use. 

Rather than let them start up something energetic again, Iroh offered to read a story from Air Temple Island’s vast book collection while Asami finished up what the kids hadn’t been able to do in the kitchen. Meelo wanted something with dragons and armies, and the girls wanted something with princesses, so he found an old story that he promised had all of these things and settled down on the couch. Asami was vaguely familiar with the story herself, but Iroh was halfway through before she realized that he had switched the characters around so that the princess and her army was rescuing the prince from the dragon. 

Near the end of the story Asami came out of the kitchen and flopped down into a comfortable chair opposite the couch. She was exhausted. Even though the kids had been relatively good, at least compared to some of the stories she’d heard, Asami had no idea how Pema and Tenzin did this all day, every day, for years. No wonder they had wanted a few days vacation.

Iroh sat across from her, cross legged in the middle of the couch, Meelo on one side and Ikki on the other, each of them leaning over one of his arms to follow along. Jinora sat primly on the floor in rapt attention. Ronan had apparently fallen asleep in his lap, and Iroh seemed to be using his little body as a book rest. “The princess, you see, was very smart, and very brave,” he read. “The prince knew that he was very lucky that someone so smart and so brave had come to rescue him. No one else could have done it.” He glanced up at Asami and smiled.

***

Asami awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of crying. That would be Ronan then. She’d been expecting as much. Pema said he was still getting up at least once. She moved to pull the blanket off. 

“I got it,” Iroh said next to her, swinging his legs out of bed. “Go to sleep.” Too tired to argue, Asami snuggled back down into the guest bed. 

She awoke a while later, cold. Iroh’s half of the bed was still empty. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, then padded out into the hallway. The house was dark. There was no sign of Iroh. She was starting to get a little worried when she caught movement through the window out of the corner of her eye. She walked over and was surprised to see Iroh out by the sky bison paddocks, pacing back and forth. He turned, and she saw that he was carrying Ronan. The baby must not have gone back to sleep yet.

She almost went back to bed, but then felt guilty. Instead, she walked to the door, threw a coat on over her pajamas, slipped on her shoes and walked outside. Iroh’s back was to her now, and as she got closer she realized he was singing. Asami had never heard him sing before. While he wouldn’t win any contests, he had a nice voice, more low talking than actual singing, kind of like his reading voice. Iroh turned, and his eyes widened a little when he saw her.

“Shh,” he said quietly, stopping the song. “I think he’s finally out. That took forever. We’ve been walking all over the property. What are you doing out here, I thought you were in bed?”

“Didn’t know where you’d gone,” she whispered. She noticed Iroh had nothing but a coat on over his underwear. Spirits forbid either of the girls woke up, or she’d never hear the end of “muscles.” He hadn’t even put shoes on. “What were you singing? I didn’t recognize it.”

“Oh,” Iroh said, and colored a little. “It’s nothing you’d know.”

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s from a book. I read it a long, long time ago. I think it might have even been a poem, not a song, but to me it seemed to fit the tune of an old lullaby so that’s how I memorized it. I haven’t thought of it in ages, but Ronan took so long to go to sleep that I ran out of regular nursery rhymes and for some reason this came to mind.”

“Can I hear it?” she asked.

“Um.” He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Okay, I guess. But don’t laugh. I can’t really sing.” He hummed a little, then started again.

_An bhfuil aon rud is gá dom a rá nach bhfuil ráite cheana?  
_ _Tá mé dea-bhéasach le fada an lá.  
_ _Cén fáth ar chóir dom níos mó ama a chaitheamh?_

_Níos fearr anois ná nach bhfuil.  
_ _Níos fearr an fhuaim ard seo ná cliste.  
_ _Níos fearr ach an t-amadán a imirt.  
_ _Uaireanta is é seo an chaoi a ndúnann tú do shúile agus pógann mé thú  
_ _Toisc go bhfuil gach rud a leanann bréagach agus cruálach._

_Mar sin coinnigh suas mé, táim ag dul amach.  
_ _Ná fan suas, ní thiocfaidh mé abhaile.  
_ _Má leagann tú síos mé i réimsí coincréite  
_ _An mbeidh mé ag brionglóid faoi féar agus ceoldráma?_

The song had a lilting, rolling cadence, the words almost blending together from one to the next. It reminded her of soft hills, rising and falling, or maybe an ocean. “What does it mean?” she asked when he finished.

Iroh chuckled. “I have no idea. I don’t even know what language it is. I tried to find out, but I couldn’t. It probably doesn’t exist anymore, and I’m almost certainly pronouncing most of it wrong. The palace has books from all over, going back centuries. But I thought it was beautiful all the same.”

Asami thought of Iroh as a child, perhaps Meelo’s age, sitting alone in a cavernous library, singing to himself in a language that he didn’t even understand. For the first time, she thought that growing up as the youngest son in such a large place full of busy, important people might have sometimes been lonely.

“Come on,” he said softly. “You look cold. Let’s go in. I think he’s out for now.” Asami nodded, then followed Iroh back to the house, the sleeping baby draped carefully over one shoulder.


	11. ASAMI

The tiny fireball whizzed through the target, leaving a perfectly round hole in its center.

“Neat,” said Korra. “They’re small, but accurate.”

“Thanks,” said Asami. “It’s easier to start with accuracy and add power than it is to try to rein in some big fireball later. Just look Iroh play smackball.” She blew on the small disc in her hand. She was still testing thermal protection systems on the fire smackers and it was getting hot. “Want to try it?”

“Sure,” said Korra. She strapped on the device and sighted a target. They were in the shooting gallery underneath the hangar at the Sato estate, which Asami had turned into a modified testing range for some of her more sensitive prototypes. At first she thought that Iroh had been teasing about using her smackball paddles in the United Forces, but it turned out when she’d formally pitched it there had been quite a bit of interest in further developing the light mecha, which she’d jokingly named “smackers.” So much for no longer designing weapons. 

“Just flick up, right?” Asami nodded. Korra moved her wrist sharply upward and a tomato-sized ball of fire shot down the shooting lane. It hit the target just to the right of dead center. Korra learned fast. “How is the big fireball, anyway?” she asked, lining up the target again.

“Who, Iroh? He’s fine, why?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Korra. She fired off another shot. “I mean, you know. I’ve always been curious. Comparatively. How is he?” Korra glanced at her and smiled sardonically. “It’s not like we don’t have the same reference point.” 

“I’d rather not think about that,” Asami said, but she was smiling, too. One of the side effects of being ridiculously happy was that one tended to forgive more easily. Whatever tension there might have been with Korra, or even with Mako for that matter, had faded quickly in the face of her new relationship. “But also, good. Really, _really,_ good.”

Korra laughed. “Some girls have all the luck. You two are pretty serious?”

“I guess, yeah.” She knew Iroh was the romantic of the two of them, but that didn’t mean she loved him any less. She just thought of it differently. He’d become integral to her life, something indispensable, and that was that. There was work, and friends, and Iroh, and hot tea, and projects, and Iroh, and sleep, and food, and water, and air, and Iroh. She could no more imagine doing without him than if someone had told her she suddenly had to remove one of her arms. Asami didn’t really know what that meant in terms of relationship status. It was just true. 

In truth, she didn’t have a lot of models for happy relationships. As far as Asami knew, her parents had loved one another, but her mother had died so long ago that she really had no idea. She had no siblings, no aunts and uncles or cousins. Her world had been her busy father, various nannies and private teachers, an exclusive academy, then the Republic City socialite scene; none of which were precisely role models for something so banal as love. In fact, dating Iroh had actually pushed Asami to spend more time with Korra and her friends, rather than at the upper-crust parties and galas that she and Iroh both were often sought after for. More than anything, Asami found that she couldn’t stand the gossip. The few times they’d gone together after they’d started seeing one another, all she had heard was, “Oh, Prince Iroh, what a catch!” and “Nice job, that one's actually good-looking,” as if Iroh were some kind of goal or prize instead of a person. Even the few people she’d been close enough to confide in hadn’t seemed to believe it was love. 

Deep down she knew Iroh was rich and royal and that in every way it was exactly the kind of match a “new money” woman like herself was supposed to make, but that only made her angry. Not because she was conforming to expectations; rather, Asami hated the idea that anyone thought of Iroh as no more than a walking title because she loved him, and was frustrated that others didn't see why. Didn't see _him._ That beneath the formal, slightly awkward veneer of Prince Iroh II was the man who’d cheated the first time they’d ever played Pai Sho and would still switch pieces if you weren’t looking; the man who constantly stole things off her plate with increasingly ridiculous attempts to get her to look the other way; the man who was always scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder because he knew how it made her laugh. To her Iroh wasn’t third in line to be Firelord; he was the handsome man standing in the kitchen of a small apartment, firebending a pan in one hand, letting her kiss the sauce off his nose. He might not always seem it, especially to relative strangers, but Iroh was _fun._ She knew she’d love him if he had nothing, and he her, and the constant insinuation that either of them were playing some kind of game for personal gain made her sick. Iroh didn’t let it get to him as much as she did, but he also cared a lot less about what people thought of him in general, so as soon as she’d shown the inclination he’d been more than happy to drop much of the acquaintance entirely. After that, their happiness had been their own.

“What’s it like?” asked Korra.

“Which part? I’m not telling you about my sex life, Korra. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

Korra laughed. “No, not that. Having someone love you like that. What’s it like?” 

Asami frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. Maybe it didn’t work out in the end, but I know Mako loved you. I think in a lot of ways he still does.”

“Oh, I know,” Korra said. She shrugged slightly. “But I mean, there’s love, and then there’s whatever that big fireball feels for you. I’ve never seen someone look at another person the way he looks at you. Ever. It would be almost funny if I didn’t know he was serious. And you’re not much better.”

Asami thought about that. “I don’t know,” she said, after a while. “I don’t have much to compare it to. I only dated Mako for a couple of months, and the guys before that we were so young it hardly counts.”

“You’ve only been dating Iroh for a couple of months,” Korra pointed out.

Asami paused at that. Somehow it felt like a lot longer. “I don’t know,” she said again. “It’s like… there’s guys, and then there’s Iroh. He kind of has his own category. It’s even a little weird calling him my boyfriend sometimes. And it’s not that he’s older, or that we work together or anything. It’s more like, you know, boyfriends are things that you have multiple of. ‘This is my boyfriend, Iroh’ makes it sound like he’s an example in a subset. With him it’s more like, ‘Hi, this is my Iroh.’ I don’t know if that makes any sense, but that’s as close as I can put it.”

Korra nodded. She sighted the target again, then grinned. “I hear he has brothers?” Another fireball rocketed down the shooting lane.

“Yeah, two.”

“Then your mission is clear. Next time they visit, cut me in. Firebenders for all who want them.” 

Asami laughed. Iroh had told her about his family, but she still had yet to meet any of them. She’d gotten to the point where the idea was more exciting than scary. “I’ll do what I can,” she told Korra. “I promise.”


	12. IROH

It had been three months since Bolin had asked Iroh after smackball if he could come running sometimes. Now that he was off the ship Iroh ran four or five mornings a week, trading off with other kinds of training and luxuriating in the fact that all he had to do was put on shoes and step outside. They met up one Friday outside Iroh’s apartment and headed down to the waterfront, where the terrain was relatively flat. They’d only gone about two miles before Bolin tapped out, gasping and clutching his side. Yet to Iroh’s surprise, he’d asked if he could join again the following week.

Somehow the Friday morning runs had become routine. Mako had so many overnights now that he was a full-time detective that he and Bolin didn’t spend as much time together as they used to. They were also no longer roommates, which, while probably good for both of them, was also an adjustment. After all, for most of their lives they’d only had each other. And while Bolin also hit the gym with Korra occasionally, her duties as the Avatar and her rigorous airbending training with Tenzin had cut into the time she used to spend with the Fire Ferrets. While Bolin had said that taking up a different form of exercise would help him up his game, for the most part Iroh expected he was simply lonely.

At first it had been a bit of a struggle. While it had been hard to keep a regular schedule when he was deployed, Iroh had been a runner his whole life and had at least a certain level of muscle memory and baseline fitness. Bolin, while in excellent shape, had primarily weight trained and had little experience with the kind of pacing and stamina it takes to run long distances. Used to the quick rounds of a pro-bending match, he had a tendency to be hot off the mark and then tire quickly. But after a few weeks of practice he seemed to get the hang of it, and every week he improved. They eventually fell into a regular seven mile route that was long enough for Iroh to work up a sweat and manageable for Bolin to keep up.

Iroh, for his part, was astonished to learn how much running with a partner improved his time, even when he thought he was slowing down for Bolin. He knew he enjoyed looking at the scenery, especially as he was still exploring Republic City, but hadn’t realized how often he let himself get distracted until he’d had a pacer. Something about running with another man, too, made him feel like he always needed to be a few inches ahead. Iroh was also pleasantly surprised to find out that he liked the company. While he still prized the solitude of his longer runs around the harbor, and often did some of his best thinking there, he found that once Bolin stopped trying to be funny or show off he liked the other man quite a bit. He was kind and honest, and one of the more insightful judges of character that Iroh had met. There weren’t enough men in the United Forces that were any of those, let alone all three, and Iroh often found himself looking forward to getting Bolin’s perspective on one issue or another as Friday approached.

They were most of the way back one morning when Bolin called a halt. “One sec,” he said, panting a little. Iroh stopped, breathing hard, then jogged back to where the younger man stood. Bolin set his feet, then moved his right hand in sharp upward motion. A cracked depression in the paving, which Iroh had simply run around, pushed upwards and flattened. Bolin stomped on it, as if checking his work, then looked at Iroh. “Someone could have hurt themselves on that,” he said. 

Iroh looked down at where the dent used to be. It was neat work. He could hardly see the cracks anymore. “You know, I always wanted to be an earthbender,” he said. 

“Really?” said Bolin. They started running again at a slow cool-down jog that allowed them to talk.

“Yeah.”

“But why? I always thought earthbending was kind of lame. Air and water are super powerful elements, and man, you’ve got _fire,_ which is just cool. Don’t get me wrong, I love earthbending, but it’s mostly moving dirt.”

“It’s dead useful, is what it is,” said Iroh honestly. “Earthbending is versatile. Maybe it’s just life in the Forces, but I can’t tell you the number of times when moving dirt could have changed the game entirely. With firebending, almost everything you do is at close range. I have the scars to prove it. I’d rather bury the other side up to their armpits, sink their mecha and have done with it.”

Bolin laughed at that. “I suppose. But everyone knows the ladies like firebenders.” Iroh glanced sideways, trying to tell whether or not Bolin was joking. 

“Ladies,” Iroh said, attempting to sound casual, “or someone in particular?”

“No one in particular these days,” Bolin said, though Iroh thought he sounded a little sad. “I don’t know if you know, but I used to have a thing for Korra. It’s done now, we’re friends and I’m totally fine with that. More than fine. I actually find her a little scary sometimes. But we went on a date once and had a great time, and then I caught her kissing Mako like five minutes after we got back. I paid for dinner and my brother got the goodnight kiss. It sucked. It’s always kind of been like that with him, too. He’s all serious and unavailable, but he shoots off a few flames and he’s somehow got everyone’s attention.” 

Iroh thought for a moment, trying to decide how honest to be. “You know,” he said carefully, “there was a time that I wanted to beat the shit out of your brother.”

“You did?”

“I mean, not literally. But maybe. Kind of, yeah. When I first met Asami, or, you know, not met, but got to know her I guess, it seemed like he was dating her and Korra at the same time. I never quite figured out what happened there, but it… complicated things. In a way I didn’t appreciate.” He glanced at Bolin. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think firebending has anything to do with it. And you’re not the only guy who has ever been jealous of Mako kissing someone you’re into.”

“So how did you win over Asami, if it wasn’t with firebending?”

“I kissed her a couple of times myself and she finally got the hint.” Bolin stumbled next to him. Iroh smiled. “I’m mostly kidding. It turned out she liked me, too, and we’d just had trouble figuring out how to tell each other. All I did to win her over was be honest.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Bolin. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

“There’s someone perfect for you, too, Bolin. Earthbending and all.”

“Thanks, man.” They ran for a few minutes in silence. Then Bolin said, “So, when are you going to ask her?”

“Ask who what?” 

“Ask Asami to marry you.” 

Iroh nearly choked. “What?” he sputtered, losing his pacing entirely. It was a wonder he didn’t trip. “What?” he said again.

“Oh please,” said Bolin. He was smiling. “She’s crazy about you. From what I can tell, you’re crazy about her, too. She’s always over at your place. I bet she’s there right now. You two probably stayed up all night doing competitive puzzles or something. Can you honestly tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

Iroh couldn’t. Of course he’d thought about it. Probably more than he wanted to admit. But they’d only been together for seven months. That wasn’t very long, was it? And she’d never met his family. How did that even work? It wasn’t like they could pop over to the Fire Nation for dinner one night. And what happened if Iroh was transferred again, this time out of the Republic entirely? What would happen to Future Industries? What if Asami didn’t want to go with him? What if there was a war, a real war, and she couldn’t? He didn’t want to saddle her with an absent husband. And while he was a relatively minor figure compared to his mothers and brothers, there would still be some duties that came with marrying into the Fire Nation royal family. Come to think of it, a life with him might be a shaky prospect altogether. Maybe Asami didn’t even want that. She was so independent, after all, it’s not like she needed a husband. And could he really say that he was better than all of the other men that she knew? Would she always think that? After all, she was barely 20, and there were a lot of men in the world she hadn’t met yet. Iroh found that every time he thought about the future he got so lost in all of the details and what ifs that he gave up entirely.

“I… I don’t know,” he said instead.

Bolin nodded, seeming to sense his discomfort. “No problem,” he said. “But if you ever need help, tell me. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s being a hopeless romantic.”

Iroh jerked his head, his jaw clenched. He searched for a way to change the subject. “So,” he said finally, “you wanted to be a firebender? I think Asami might have something for you to try.”


	13. ASAMI

Asami put the bike in park, popped the stand and hopped off. Her backpack clanged softly, and she winced. She hadn’t really thought through how to transport the smackers, and didn’t like to think what would happen if one went off in a bag full of the things. Especially if that bag were still attached to her. She made a mental note to ask Iroh about that. He was a lot better at packing than she was, and might know something about how the United Forces shipped similar equipment. 

Bike secured, Asami looked around and scanned the park. It was a bit hilly, with winding paths and dense stands of tall trees, but she didn’t see anyone. There was only one other vehicle in the lot, too, a small blue satomobile a few years out of date. That was probably good. While anyone watching would probably think they were just practicing bending forms or sparring, she didn’t exactly want an audience. 

Suddenly a fireball shot up out over the tops of some trees off to her left, followed by another, and another. Each ball of flame was slightly smaller than the next, spaced perfectly about four feet apart. The last fireball, no bigger than a lemon, winked out over the trees. Asami smiled, then started walking. Looks like she’d found her firebender.

Iroh stood on the other side of the trees, doing what he’d taken to calling “scales.” Ever since they’d started playing smackball, he’d taken it on as a personal project to get better at controlling his fire at high intensity so that he could use it more as force than flame. Asami knew he’d always considered himself a fairly accomplished firebender, and based on what she’d seen he was probably underrating himself. In a lot of ways, he was exceptionally gifted. So it had bothered him to find that there was a whole area of the art, common in things like pro-bending, that he simply hadn’t been taught. After all, when you’re trained for combat, what is the point of learning to pull your punches so that you _don’t_ set things on fire? 

As Asami rounded the path into the clearing Iroh sent another series of fireballs into the air, one after the other, this time the same size but different colors. The first ones looked more or less normal: the warm yellow of a candle, the mixed yellow and orange of a campfire, the orangey-red of embers. But as he progressed, the colors changed: pinkish, bright white, deep purple, nearly black. The final fireball was a bright, iridescent blue. He tracked it as it shot into the sky, probably making sure it went out instead of catching any of the trees on fire, then wiped his forehead with his forearm. She saw he’d already taken off his light jacket. Though the weather had finally turned cooler, he’d already worked up a sweat; like most firebenders he tended to run hot.

“Hey,” he said, finally seeing her. “Did you see that? I think I finally got a green one.” 

Asami, who hadn’t seen a green one, smiled at him. “They look great.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I’ve still got a lot of work to do. I’m sure Korra or Mako would help.”

Asami put the pack gently on the ground. “Yeah,” she said. “But I’d rather it was you. Besides”—she glanced up at him—”I’m helping. If you’re still working on scaling, there’s nothing more motivating than throwing fire at your girlfriend.”

Iroh paled a little at that, but nodded. “All right,” he said. “I must be crazy, but all right.”

Asami took one of the new fire smackers from the bag and they squared off, facing one another, about 20 feet between them. She raised her right hand, the one she’d strapped the device to, palm parallel to the ground. “On three,” she said. Iroh nodded, his jaw tight. “One… two… three!” Asami flicked her wrist upwards. Then something warm and soft hit her in the center of her chest, and she was knocked backwards into the grass. 

She heard quick footsteps, then Iroh pulled her up. “You okay?” he asked. He looked worried.

“Fine,” she said, brushing grass off her back. “But a little humiliated. Did I get you?” 

Iroh gave her a skeptical look. “Give me _some_ credit,” he said. “If you had hit me the first time, I’d probably have to retire. But you made a nice little fireball. It was cute.” Asami stuck her tongue out at him.

They paced off again. This time, Asami focused on her aim. On three, she shot a fist-sized ball of fire straight at Iroh. Or at least, where Iroh had been. As she watched he stepped aside, almost casually, and held out one hand. Then he caught her fireball, passed it around his back, and threw it at her. Asami jumped to the side, but apparently he’d seen that coming. The little fireball hit her in the stomach and she went down again. 

She lay on her back in the grass. “Show off,” she muttered. 

Iroh’s face appeared above her. He looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Technically, that time you hit me,” he said.

“Bite me, Iroh,” she said through gritted teeth. Iroh grinned, then reached down and pulled her up. 

“Want some tips?” he asked, once she’d dusted herself off again. “I think your mecha is fine, it’s actually remarkable, but you’re never going to hit me like that.”

Asami frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t I…? Here.” He turned so he was standing next to her. “First lesson, fire isn’t different from any other weapon. I know you know how to fight, and I think without mecha or bending we might even be evenly matched, as least skill-wise. Adding firebending, or something approximating it, shouldn't change that. You'd never stand still and stab someone in a knife fight, right? Or think of your glove. It’s just an extension of yourself.” 

Iroh glanced aside at her, then lifted his right hand. “Here,” he said, squaring his shoulders a little. “Do what I do. Don’t fire until I tell you. Just move like I move.” Asami held her hand out, mirroring his position. Iroh brought his arm back in a sweeping motion, rolling his shoulder in almost in a full circle, then brought his hand back up, palm skywards. Asami mimicked him, and when her arm was almost completely straight, Iroh said: “Now.” 

She flicked her wrist again, and the blast of fire rocketed across the park. The movement felt much more natural than it had when she’d tried to fire from a stationary position. 

Iroh beamed at her. “Perfect,” he said. “You’ve just done the first firebending form I ever learned.”

_Wow, really?_

They practiced like that for a few more minutes, Iroh gently correcting her movements and posture with his hands—probably more often, and more thoroughly, then was strictly necessary. Asami certainly saw his point. Even though the motion to trigger the smacker stayed the same, she found that the forms made it much easier for her to aim, adjust, and stabilize her arm. Fascinating.

“All right,” Iroh said, after a while. They’d dropped any pretense of her using him for target practice. “The second lesson is, if you want your mecha to mimic a firebender, you have to treat the whole process of using it like firebending. That means all of it. A lot of bending is in your head, and most of the rest is how you move. The fire itself is only the final part. It isn’t like shooting targets. You’ll never hit a firebender if you aren't thinking like one.”

“Okay,” she said. “How is that different from what you just showed me?”

“It’s…” Iroh paused, looking thoughtful. “I suppose it’s putting them together,” he said. “Sorry, I’ve actually never taught anyone else. What I mean is, I just showed you some basic forms. But firebending, especially combat firebending, isn’t one form and then another. It’s a series, and just as much happens in the transition from one form to another as in the form itself.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” That was probably an understatement. Iroh had lost her completely. Asami understood forms and stances—she used that in kickboxing—but she hadn't been taught anything special about transitions.

“Hmm…” Iroh said. He thought a moment. “Okay, how about this. You like math, right? So think of it as a progression… logic, even, so you should be good at it. For every firebending form, there are only a few forms that reasonably follow. You can force others, but it’s awkward and generally a bad idea. It’s pretty advanced. That means that for whatever form you are in, there are _n_ number of set things that you can do next. The combination of your current form and one of the next forms, say _n_ sub one, is unique as well, and allows you to do different things that then set up the next form and then the next transition. It creates a big tree of possibilities, but it’s not infinite, and if you pay attention to your opponent you can narrow down the set of options that they have. And the better you get at that, the better you get at not only thinking a few moves ahead for yourself, but predicting what other firebenders will do, too. Which lets you hit them, not where they are, but where they are going to be.”

Asami tilted her head, surprised. No one had ever explained bending to her like a math problem before. She was also pretty sure this was not how Mako thought about firebending. She suddenly understood why Iroh was so good at Pai Sho.

“That’s… kind of amazing,” she said. Iroh smiled, clearly pleased that he’d managed to get his point across. They practiced forms for a few more minutes, paying special attention to moving between them. Then he called a halt.

“All right,” he said. “Want to try it on me again?” Asami nodded, turning to face him. She felt confident enough in at least a few basics, and was eager to try it out with the smacker on a moving target. “One,” he said. “Two. Three!”

Iroh tackled her, pushing her down into the soft grass. They rolled over once and then he pinned both her wrists over her head with one hand, flattening her with his torso, using his weight to hold her down. His face was only inches from hers; she could see the light sweat beading on his forehead. “Third lesson,” he said, panting slightly, “don’t fall in love with bending. If you start thinking of it as your only asset, you’ll lose.” His gold eyes glittered in amusement. Then he bent down and kissed her. It wasn’t a quick kiss, either. Slow and deep, it was the kind of thorough, patient kiss that made kissing Iroh so different from everyone else. When they finally parted, he was smiling.

“Welcome to firebending,” he said.


	14. IROH

Iroh sat at his desk Tuesday morning and saw the bright red envelope straight away. 

ATTN G. IROH RCCC RECEIVED VIA FIRE NATION PVT

That didn’t sound good. A telegram from the Fire Nation on the private line was serious, though he noted it hadn’t been marked urgent. Iroh tore open the envelope, realizing with guilt that it had been almost nine months since he’d been home. He’d been so absorbed with things in Republic City that he hadn’t even been much of a correspondent. What if something had happened?

A single slip of paper fell out of the envelope. Iroh picked it up and read:

REP CTY PRS PG 6. DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL US? LV I-MOM/H-MOM

 _Huh?_ “Rep cty prs” was probably Republic City Press, especially with the page number, but Iroh hadn’t even looked yet. He pulled that day’s paper out of the stack of today’s briefings and scanned page six, but nothing jumped out at him. But if this was coming from his parents in the Fire Nation, they were probably a day behind. Iroh got up and walked over to the bin, then found yesterday’s paper. Thankfully it was still there. He walked back over to his desk and sat.

Iroh flipped to page six. He’d missed the article entirely yesterday, as he generally only read the headlines and international news. Page six was Style, a section filled with the comings and goings of Republic City’s celebrities and elite. He scanned the page and froze. There, in the center of the page, under an article about a well-attended gala, was a picture of him and Asami. It was a little grainy, as if it had been taken with a long lens, but their faces were clear. In a terrible way, it was actually a good picture. It was shot from a low angle, the photo cropped to show only their arms and upper bodies. Iroh was pinning her down, one hand on both her wrists, kissing Asami in the soft grass. It could have been an ad for something that used sex to sell, like perfume or hard liquor. He could just see the fire smacker still strapped to her hand.

The picture must have been taken Saturday. They’d met up a little outside the city to give the new and improved fire smackers a go—Asami had wanted to see what it was like to test them against a real firebender. The tests had gone well, but it hadn’t all been strictly professional. Clearly.

Below the photo ran the following article:

REPUBLIC CITY CENTRAL COMMAND ON FIRE?

Long-rumored Republic City power couple General Iroh and Asami Sato pulled out all the stops this weekend in a park near the Sato estate. Together Gen. Iroh and Ms. Sato make up the top brass of Republic City Central Command (RCCC), the organization jointly run by Republic City and the United Forces to ensure the continued safety of the Republic. But safety was nowhere to be found on Saturday as they met to test some of the latest military mecha coming out of leading defense contractor Future Industries, which Ms. Sato owns. While it was unclear exactly what this new technology is, one thing is for certain: when the dust settled, the fire was only getting hotter. As for what this means for the inner workings of the RCCC, who can say? But we here at the Republic City Press look forward to seeing a lot more sparks fly between these two.

Iroh read the whole thing twice, then put his head in his hands.

Iameh was going to kill him. That is, if his mothers didn't first. He pulled out a piece of paper, grabbed a pen, and started to write.

***

President Raiko summoned him later that morning. They met in the president’s private office on the top floor of City Hall. Iroh had always thought it was one of the most ridiculous rooms he’d ever been in. Gigantic, yet dark, with oversized furniture and a deep red patterned carpet, it looked to him like a caricature of a king’s antechamber. Raiko himself sat at a desk nearly twice as large as he was, opposite an engraved wooden seal of the Republic that had to be eight feet tall. Clearly, the president had size issues.

Raiko was wearing his usual purple jacket, a newspaper spread out before him. He was a tall man, straight-backed and rigid, with round spectacles, tan skin, and a fluffy brown mustache that made it look like a hamster had died on his face. Iroh understood their dislike to be mutual, and he thoroughly looked forward to voting for whomever ran against him late next year. Korra had actually floated the idea of him running himself, but he’d quickly squashed the notion. The very last thing Iroh wanted in his life was more politics.

“Well this is an embarrassment,” the president said, putting down the paper. Iroh had a sinking feeling that it was yesterday’s page six. 

“Is there a problem?” he asked politely, resting his hands behind his back. Raiko did not ask him to sit.

“Yes. I would say there is.”

“How may I help?”

“Are you aware, General Iroh, that last evening’s edition of the Republic City Press ran a story and a photograph about you? A photograph that appeared to show you and my new civilian liaison in a rather compromising position?”

“It was actually a very nice position,” Iroh said. That was probably a mistake, but he was angry about the invasion of his privacy and didn’t feel like humoring anyone today, least of all Raiko.

“Don’t be cute,” the president snapped. “So it’s real then?”

Iroh nodded. “Miss Sato and I have been seeing one another for some time now, Mr. President, yes. I do not see how my personal life, or hers, is of any relevance though. We don’t advertise it, but everyone in RC command who needs to know is aware, and I haven’t heard any specific complaints.”

“You call having this fucking photo in the _Press_ not advertising?”

“Because we obviously submitted that photograph ourselves? I’m not happy about it, but I don’t understand why it’s a problem. Let alone the government’s business.”

“I don’t give two shits who you stick your dick in, Iroh,” Raiko said. Iroh narrowed his eyes. That was crude, even for Raiko. Spirits, he hated this guy. “But if it comes out that you’re throwing contracts to Future Industries as part of it, the damage could be irreparable. I’ve got an election coming up.”

 _Good,_ thought Iroh. “Are you questioning my integrity? Or Miss Sato’s?”

“No, I’m questioning your judgement. I also heard a rumor that you were arrested for fighting a few months ago? There’s nothing on the books though.”

Iroh said nothing, silently blessing Lin for only fining him exorbitantly. 

Raiko scowled at him. “I moved you here so that I could keep an eye on you. But don’t get me wrong. I will not let you be a liability to this administration. You’d make an excellent diplomat, Iroh, and I’m pretty sure there are some godforsaken parts of the world that it can suddenly become terribly strategically important to send you to. Dismissed.”


	15. IROH

Iroh rolled up the big map. The conference room was empty now except for him and Asami. He’d caught a few looks as the other members of the joint command had left, but not many. It seemed like whatever fervor there might have been over he and Asami’s relationship going from open secret to simply open was dying down. 

It was nearly two weeks since they had tested the fire smackers in the park. Iameh had been predictably furious, though she’d seemed more angry at the _Republic City Press_ than at either Iroh or Asami. After lecturing him and, to his surprise, Asami as well, she’d immediately set about trying to get ahead of any fallout that could compromise their work at the RCCC. While there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, the article seemed to have revived the kind of talk about the risks of having the head of a firm like Future Industries involved in the government that had cropped up when Iroh had suggested Asami for the role in the first place. If it looked like Future Industries had the United Forces wrapped around its finger, that could throw nearly all of the decisions they were making into question.

Iameh’s plan, nicknamed Operation Snooze, was to kill any further stories by being both completely open and utterly boring. The press and the public loved secrets and intrigue, so the more Iroh and Asami tried to stay out of the limelight, the more they were likely to be chased and suspected. If, however, they made themselves available but not interesting, they might eventually be left alone. Accordingly they, with Iameh’s help, began a campaign to be visibly together as much as possible outside of work. Having lunch, a walk in the park, holding hands next to her motorbike. Yet though they went to dinner almost every night, Asami always made a point of returning home to the Sato estate afterwards. Either of them staying over at the other’s place, and speculation about what might be going on there, would be too temptingly newsworthy. Iroh hated it. His apartment was too quiet, and he wasn’t sleeping well. After a few nights he’d taken to going to the gym after dinner, even if he’d already had a run that morning, just to tire himself out.

Thankfully, Iameh’s PR campaign seemed to be working. There had been two subsequent stories in the week that followed, both featuring photographs of the two of them eating at the kind of overpriced, high-end restaurants people assumed they ate at—they had very deliberately not gone to any of their usual favorites. The pictures, like the articles, were thoroughly boring. After that, the _Press_ seemed to have lost interest. As for things at the RCCC, there were some awkward encounters, but nothing major. The first weekly joint command meeting had been particularly tense, with a few snide comments from some of the older directors, but he and Asami had acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary and no one had been brave enough to say anything more overt. Iroh had also noticed a few smirks in the hallway, and some unknown person had wolf-whistled after them once, but other than that, it was fine. Realistically, anyone who would have been affected had already known. Commander Cuzon, the only person besides President Raiko that Iroh thought would deliberately make trouble for them, was thankfully deployed to the south with his half of the fleet.

“So,” Iroh said as he stuffed the map into its paper tube, “what did you want to show me?”

“Oh, right,” said Asami. She walked over and closed the door, then locked it. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. He’d personally love nothing more than to be locked in a room alone with Asami right now, but that wasn’t going to get the two of them off of Iameh’s sleepover probation. 

“It’ll be fine,” she said. “Everyone is at lunch, and I’ll make it quick.” Then she took off her shoes. For a brief second Iroh thought she was going to undress, and had a moment of panic combined with a surge of lust so strong he actually took a half step forwards. But instead Asami turned and walked barefoot over to her bag. She pulled out a new pair of shoes that looked nothing like the stylish boots and pumps that she usually wore at work. Thick and square, with what looked like slightly raised platforms, they seemed like they’d be more at home on someone Director Tan’s age than on a woman in her twenties. 

“What are those?” Iroh asked, trying to shove his feelings back down. It had been a very long two weeks.

“Airbending shoes,” answered Asami, putting them on. She stood, then faced him. “Okay,” she said. “Watch this.” 

She jumped a little and pointed her toes in a foot-based approximation of the wrist flick used to activate the smackers. Something inside the shoe clicked and Asami rocketed upwards a good four feet. Then she pitched forwards. She pinwheeled her arms and stuck out a leg, kicking it into the conference table. Her other foot shot out from under her and she reeled backwards. Iroh jumped forwards and mostly caught her, but the momentum knocked them both back into the wall. 

“Ow! Shit!” said Asami, rubbing furiously at her shin as he put her down. “Thanks. I forgot that we weren’t outside.” Iroh gave her a bemused look. For someone as smart as Asami, it could be very funny what she forgot. 

“No, we’re not,” he said, massaging his shoulder where it had hit the wall. “You couldn’t have waited to show me that later?”

“No,” she said, “we’re supposed to be seen, remember? I can’t exactly go demonstrating new mecha if I think it’ll be all over the _Press_. The last thing I need is someone like Varrick seeing a picture and then beating me to the punch.” Varrick, a sometimes collaborator of Asami’s, had a reputation for being somewhat amoral when it came to selling new technologies. A reputation that, as far as Iroh understood, was rather deserved.

“I see,” he said. “And those are airbending shoes, you say? I’ve never seen an airbender do that.” He was teasing her, of course. Iroh actually though the technology was amazing.

Asami glared at him. “I’m still working on the stabilization, okay? But I got to thinking, what would happen if you put smackers on your feet? They’re actually inspired by you, if you must know.”

“Me? I can’t airbend.”

“No, but I’ve seen you use firebending to do some pretty fantastic jumps. I tried it with the fire ones first, actually. It was a bit of a disaster. It’s your scaling problem. They still don’t have a lot of power, at least compared to you, and have nowhere near enough for something like propulsion. When I jacked them up a bit, all I did was burn holes in the floor.” 

“I can show you some things that might help with that,” Iroh said. He’d always found he needed a bit of a running start. 

“Thanks, but I went back to the air ones anyway. I needed four, which is why it’s a whole shoe instead of a strap-on. The tech is basically where my glove is at, unfortunately.” Iroh knew that one of Asami’s biggest frustrations had been her inability to shrink the technology in her electric glove into the same kind of light mecha that made the smackers. It seemed that she couldn’t find a way to do it without electrocuting the person wearing them. “But I think they’ve got potential.”

Iroh thought about it. It was an interesting idea. He doubted very much if Asami would be able to fly the way that he could with firebending, or even the way many airbenders could, but even something that turned a normal jump into a ten or twelve foot leap could have a lot of practical applications for the Forces.

“They’re brilliant,” he said finally. Asami beamed at him. “And I’m serious. I do think I can help. When I use firebending like that, it’s not just my feet. It’s actually almost impossible to go anywhere without also using both hands. It limits you in a lot of ways, but I think you might be able to combine a few things to make it work.” Asami nodded, stowing the shoes, then went to unlock the door again.

“Oh, I… um. Before you do that. One more thing,” Iroh said. He’d given himself until the end of the day to ask, but he might not get another time alone with her. Better to just get it over with. “I’m thinking of taking a few days off. To go home, that is. It’s been a while, and I think enough things are in motion here that I can finally get away with it. The New Year is a big deal in the Fire Nation, and it will be slow here anyway. And being gone might help with the news stories, too.” 

“Of course,” Asami said. She smiled, but Iroh thought she looked a little disappointed. Or perhaps just sad. He was forcibly reminded that the only family she had to visit was in prison. As far as he knew, she never had.

Iroh shifted his feet a little. _Here goes nothing._

“Would you, uh. Will you come with me?”


	16. ASAMI

Asami couldn’t sleep. She rolled over again, trying to get comfortable, but it felt like her arms were always in the way. She wished, not for the first time, that she could invent something that would make them retractable.

She lay in Iroh’s bed, her back now to the door. This part of the apartment had always reminded her a little more of the ship. It was small and largely undecorated, and mostly taken up by a big bed covered in crisp white sheets that Iroh somehow always managed to get perfectly straight. The only other furniture was a small desk, made of the same shiny dark wood as the dining room table, which he’d pushed into the corner by the window. He apparently only used it when she wasn’t there though; if she was working at the table, he seemed to prefer to be on the couch. The bed itself was a little on the hard side and a bit too large for the room—Asami thought Iroh had probably been overcompensating for the single bed when he’d gotten it. She was always hitting her shins on the corners as she walked around. But in spite of all this, it was hard not to like a room like Iroh’s. It was snug and orderly, and a place where mostly good things happened. She’d missed it.

Iroh lay beside her in the dark, naked, breathing deeply. He absolutely radiated heat. At first it had been hard to get accustomed to, especially since Asami had always liked a lot of blankets, but now that she was used to having him next to her she found she got cold when he wasn’t. Somewhat surprisingly, he wasn’t much for personal space, either. He insisted that he slept on his back, and usually started and ended that way, but more often than not she woke up in the middle of the night with an arm or leg draped over her, Iroh’s face buried in her neck as he snored softly into her hair. It was pretty funny. Sometimes she felt like a giant stuffed animal. But as he was almost always up before she was, she hadn’t been able to prove it to him.

Over the past few months Asami had tried hard not to crowd him. She probably stayed over more often than not now—or had before the article—and had the sense that Iroh liked having her around, but it was more the principle. She had two houses of her own in Republic City, the large estate and the townhouse, plus a vacation house on Whale Tail Island. Not to mention a large number of other buildings, including two large mecha hangars and the main Future Industries factory. With all those options at her disposal, camping out at Iroh’s all the time somehow didn’t seem fair to him. And for whatever reason, after he moved off the ship he’d rarely stayed over at any of her places. She got the sense that he was letting her decide on space, and she appreciated that.

They were leaving for the Fire Nation first thing in the morning, and Iroh had finally overruled Lt. Iameh so that they could spend the night together. Despite it being not all that far away, Asami had never been there before. Although there had been peace between the four nations for more than 70 years, people of her father’s generation still told stories of the terrible things that that country had done to the Earth Kingdom, including the territory that had later become the Republic. That, combined with her father’s personal hatred of firebenders following her mother’s death—though she had only learned the extent of it later—had not made it an appealing vacation destination. A trip, not only to the country, but to stay as a guest at the royal palace itself, would be a very new experience.

Asami had been to the palace of the former Earth King once though, a long time ago, as a little girl. Hiroshi Sato had had some business or other in Ba Sing Se, including with the Earth King, and for once he’d actually taken her along. She had to have been no more than nine or ten at the time. One of the guards had taken her on a tour while her father had met with whomever in the palace. The place was enormous, and full of many exciting things, including a zoo, but what had stuck with her were the incredible number of doors. Their own estate had 29 rooms, so she was used to large homes, but it seemed like the hallways at the palace were endless. Yet when they’d gotten to the end of the tour, the guard had pointed out two particularly embellished doors, one on either side of a long hallway, as the bedrooms of the Earth King and Queen. Asami had been confused by that. Though her mother was gone, her parents had always shared a room before. So did the parents of most of her friends, as far as she knew. She’d been just old enough to be bold and just young enough to not really understand, so she’d asked the guard about it. “That’s how royalty does it,” he’d replied in a gruff voice, and that had been that. 

She looked over at Iroh, who at this point was still on his back. It was easy to forget that he was royalty, too. Would they be expected to stay in separate bedrooms? How much did his family even know about their relationship? The picture in the _Press,_ while not actually showing anything, had been fairly suggestive. And Iroh, who often seemed so stiff and formal in public but funny and physically affectionate in private, what would he be like around the rest of his family? And what would they think of her? It was obvious that Iroh loved them very much, and if that was the case they were probably fine, but still. Asami realized that she had no idea what to expect, and it worried her.

It was a long time before she slept.


	17. IROH

“Happy New Year,” said Kazai. He handed Iroh a glass. “Time to toast.”

“I’m all right,” said Iroh, holding up his hand. He hardly ever drank, and the inch or so of gold liquor in the glass looked serious. 

“Come on,” said Matsu. His middle brother was stretched out on the couch next to him, his own drink held casually in one hand. With his round features, copper eyes, and dark brown hair, he looked a lot like Honora and their sister Tai. “You hardly ever see us. You’re hundreds of miles from the United Forces, and off-duty besides. No one will ever know Supreme Leader Iroh actually relaxed for once.”

Iroh sighed, then took the glass from Kazai. The drink was full and rich, and surprisingly sweet. He made a face. “What is this stuff, Kaz?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Kazai, flopping down into the armchair on his other side. He shifted slightly and flung one leg up over the arm of the chair; Kazai and Iroh had the same long legs. Iroh had noticed he’d grown his hair out a little since the last time he’d seen him. “Call it a little brother special.”

They sat together at one end of a medium-sized parlor. The thirty-foot ceilings were decked out with glowing paper lanterns and baubles in full New Years display, making the room look like it had been hung with a collection of brightly-colored stars. Garlands of bright red and gold were draped at regular intervals along the walls. Music played softly in the distance. Thankfully, it was just the family tonight. Iroh had had enough parties and formal dinners over the past four days to last him the whole of the next year.

Kazai inclined his head to where Asami sat across the room near the enormous fireplace, talking quietly to Tai and Kazai’s girlfriend, Inae. Her dress, made of some soft shimmering material, was the exact same shade of green as her eyes. Iroh had had a hard time not looking at it. “High pass, by the way.”

“What?”

“We like her,” said Matsu. “And so does H-mom, which we all know is what matters.”

Kazai shook his head. “No respect for the Firelord, Mat?”

“Oh please,” said Matsu. “Izumi might be Firelord, but we all know who the real boss is.” Iroh thought he was probably right. Izumi ruled the Fire Nation, but Honora ruled Izumi, and everyone involved seemed pretty happy with that arrangement. 

Matsu glanced back at Iroh. “Anyway, good job. And she seems to like you all right, too.”

“Spirits knows why,” Kazai cut in.

“Because you’re such a dork,” said Matsu.

“Shut up,” said Iroh.

“Honestly, we were worried about your prospects after Azaia,” Kazai said. Iroh’s previous girlfriend had only been interested in his title, a fact that had apparently been obvious to everyone besides Iroh himself. Iroh went to take another sip of his drink and was surprised to find it empty. His head was beginning to buzz.

“So don’t fuck it up,” said Matsu. “H-mom is going to die if she doesn’t get at least one of us married off soon.” Iroh said nothing. Instead, he reached forward and poured himself another drink from the bottle Kazai had placed on the coffee table.

“Well,” said Kazai, “I think that’s my cue.” He tipped his glass back, finishing the contents, then heaved himself to his feet. “Watch and learn, kids.” Kazai looked down and straightened his shirt a little, brushed his hair back with one hand, then squared his shoulders. He walked to the middle of the room. “Inae?” he called. “Can you come here a minute? I need to ask you something.” Inae looked up from the fireplace, said something to Asami and Tai, then joined Kazai in the middle of the room. 

“What?” she asked. 

“This,” Kazai said, and dropped to one knee. Iroh heard someone, probably Honora, make a high-pitched squealing noise. Matsu grinned beside him, then put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Across the room, he saw Tai’s eyes go wide. She hugged Asami, then started whispering excitedly. Asami made a shushing noise and nodded to the center of the room. Her eyes briefly met Iroh’s, and she smiled. 

“Inae,” said Kazai, pulling something out of his pocket, “I find myself in need of a princess. Will you do me the honor?” Inae nodded slowly, a half smile on her face, as if she'd been slightly stunned. Iroh glanced at Asami again. Then he took another drink.


	18. ASAMI

Asami, Iroh, Bolin, Mako, and Korra sat in a circle of chairs by the side of the pool at the Sato estate. It was late afternoon, the sun still peeking out over the trees, but it was getting cooler. April wasn’t quite summer yet, and though the days could be hot the nights were still a bit too cold for swimming. She and Korra had both thrown t-shirts on over their suits, but none of the men had moved to get dressed yet. Asami suspected there was some silent competition going on of which they might not even be aware. Though she and Iroh were clearly an item and Korra and either Mako or Bolin clearly weren’t, something about having a mix of young men and women together seemed to be making all three of the guys a little showy. That suited Asami just fine. There was nothing around the circle that was exactly bad to look at.

Iroh lounged next to her in a chair in a red bathing suit, his dark hair still wet against his forehead. Though his posture was relaxed, his face was lined with concentration. He watched Korra’s hand opposite him as it hovered over one of her pieces, then another. He’d been baiting her, Asami could see that clearly, but she didn’t say anything. If Korra didn’t see the move, well, so much the better for Asami as well.

They had modified Pai Sho to accommodate up to six players by changing the goal from capturing territory to something more like a war of attrition. The player with the biggest stack of captured pieces at the end won. In every meaningful way the game was usually still between her and Iroh though. Mako could hold his own, and Bolin was perhaps better than expected, both of them having played quite a bit in various hustle schemes growing up. But that was also their handicap; hustle was a game of shock and awe and, not unlike pro-bending, often sacrificed long term strategy for tempting quick wins. Sometimes one or the other of them got lucky in an opening bid; more often they didn’t. Korra, for her part, was straight-up terrible. She was impatient and opportunistic, and moreover seemed a little relieved every time she was pushed out. At least she was a good sport about it. Not caring much if she lost made her always willing to play.

“You’re up, Fireball,” Korra said, finally jumping one of Iroh’s pieces. He frowned. Asami knew he disliked the nickname. He thought fireballs were sloppy, and though he’d gotten much better he was still a bit sensitive about his smackball learning curve. Iroh scanned the board for another moment, then, with Korra having cleared the way, promptly moved his yellow dragon to the left, jumping three of Mako’s pieces along the way. 

“Shit,” said Mako. Iroh smiled and added Mako’s pieces to the stack in front of him. Asami was still technically ahead, but it was close. The next round was probably the make-or-break point. Mako studied the board. Asami knew it probably didn’t matter. 

“Beer?” Korra said, reaching behind her. Mako, who was seated next to her, held out one hand, not looking up. Bolin raised his half-finished bottle and shook his head, then took a swig. Korra pressed a beer into Mako’s outstretched hand. “Iroh?” she asked.

“No thanks,” he said, leaning back into his chair. “I’m looking to shave five minutes off my runs next week.” Bolin made a choking sound next to him, beer dribbling down his chin. Iroh grinned at him, then laced his hands behind his head and stretched. Asami knew she was biased, but _damn_. When she’d first met Iroh she’d found him mildly good-looking. Now, she had no idea how she hadn’t simply jumped on him and eaten his face. She hadn’t exactly been in a romantic frame of mind when they’d met, for several reasons, but still. It was a stunning oversight on her part, and one that she was more than a little glad to have rectified.

Iroh caught her looking and his cheeks colored a little. Hmm. Apparently the embarrassment he felt was only when he thought the attention was less than platonic. Which, considering how red he’d gone the first time she’d surprised him with his shirt off, meant he’d been thinking of her as more than just a friend a lot earlier than he’d ever admitted. Interesting. She wondered if Iroh even knew that. 

Mako finally moved his piece. He’d boxed himself in, but Asami didn’t think he was aware of it. She saw the corner of Iroh’s mouth tick up. He’d seen it too. Now it was just about who finished him off first. Mako looked at Iroh, seeming almost to size him up, then sat back in his chair. “How do I get in on these runs, anyway?” he asked. 

Iroh shrugged, leaning back even further. Asami thought it was a little like watching peacocks. “06:30 on Fridays, come any time,” he said. 

“But you’ll have to keep up,” said Bolin, moving a piece into a square that made no strategic sense, but at least avoided another capture. Asami had noticed he’d trimmed down a bit. Not that he’d ever needed it, but it seemed like the weekly runs had been good for him. 

“We’re fast,” said Iroh, glancing sideways at Bolin. He had the look of a man who knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying it immensely.

“Very fast,” Bolin said. He took another swig from his beer, flexing a little as he did so. Mako frowned slightly, then brought his right ankle up to rest on his knee, simultaneously leaning back even further in his chair and spreading his arms so that his hands dangled nonchalantly over the sides. 

“Fast isn’t a problem,” said Mako. Asami took a sip of water to keep from bursting out laughing. Beside her, she heard Korra snort softly into her beer.

It was Asami’s turn now. She leaned forwards and studied the board for a few seconds, then saw her opening. She picked up the red lotus she’d been saving in the back and jumped it forwards, sacrificing one of her own pieces in order to take out a full six others, including the two of Iroh’s he would have needed to put Mako out of the game. 

“Dammit,” said Iroh, with a sigh. He sat forward again and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, then pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. “I was hoping you had some sense of self-preservation. I should have known better. I think I’m out.” 

Bolin looked at the board. “But you’ve still got four pieces on?”

Iroh stood up and walked around to where Asami sat. He put his hands on her shoulders and studied the board again from behind her chair. “Yep, definitely out,” he said. “Besides, I have some work to do tonight that I had better get back to.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze and walked over to the table where they’d piled their things. He shrugged back into his shirt, then grabbed a towel and gathered up the rest of his stuff. Asami got up and walked over. “You’re sure you’re staying here tonight?” he asked quietly. He wrapped an arm around her waist. They had been out of the news long enough that they'd pretty much gone back to normal.

“Yeah,” said. “There are a few things I have to take care of, and anyway you said you’re working.” Iroh leaned down and kissed her. He lingered a second longer than was probably proper in front of a group. 

“You sure?” he whispered. 

She laughed and pushed him. “I hate you,” she said. “Go away.” He grinned, then turned towards the house. 

“Iroh,” said Mako suddenly. “I’ll walk you out.” He pushed himself up and started over. Iroh raised an eyebrow and nodded, then they both disappeared into the house. 

Asami went back to her chair and saw she was out of water. “Be right back,” she said, and picked up the glass. She walked in through the double doors and towards the kitchen. As soon as she got a few feet inside, she heard voices.

“You tell her, Iroh, or I will.” Asami stopped. 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Iroh’s voice.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to investigate things. Of course it’s my business. While it’s not technically a crime, it’s the kind of thing I like to keep an eye on. Especially since it involves my friend.”

“You might not have seen what you think you saw.” 

“I don’t think so,” said Mako. “It was pretty hard to mistake.”

“Say you’re right, it was only once. Once doesn’t make it a pattern.”

“It’s never once, Iroh. I would know, wouldn’t I? I’ve been on that side of things. Just tell her.”

“Not yet. Give me some time.”

“Which doesn’t let her do anything about it.”

“No,” said Iroh firmly, “it doesn’t. It would break her heart. You know it would. And for what?”

“Sometimes I wonder who you’re actually protecting, Iroh.” 

“That’s _enough._ ” Iroh actually sounded angry. “Asami would never believe you anyway. She’s too invested. So unless you can prove something, Mako, back off.” Asami heard the front door close. 

She felt suddenly sick. She hurried back out onto the patio, water forgotten. 

“Asami, are you okay?” Korra asked. 

“Fine,” she said. She just had to hold on. “Just a little tired. I might actually go lay down for a bit. But feel free to hang out. Really.” Not waiting for an answer, she turned and fled back into the house. She almost ran into Mako as he came back out through the door. 

“Asami?” he asked as she rushed by. She ignored him. Whatever he had to tell her, she didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t hear it. Hearing it would make it true. Instead she ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time, then down the long familiar hallway. She slammed the door of her bedroom shut behind her. Then she threw herself onto the bed, a bed she hadn’t slept in in weeks, a cold, terrible, Iroh-less bed, and sobbed.


	19. IAMEH

Iameh pushed open the door of the RCCC liaison’s office. “Miss Sato,” she said, leaning around the door. “May I have a quick word?”

“Come in.” The voice was crisp and business-like. Iameh pushed the door further and made her way into the office. It wasn’t large, since Asami only used it part time, but she’d arranged it in a way that still made it seem imposing. The young woman sat behind a large desk directly opposite the door, the window at her back. Her hair was done up more severely than usual. She didn’t smile. “How can I help you, Lieutenant?” she asked. She hadn’t called Iameh by only her title in a long time. Her heart sank.

“Miss Sato,” said Iameh, mirroring the formal tone, “I noticed that you canceled all your meetings with General Iroh today. I had assumed that something came up that caused you to clear your schedule, or that maybe you were ill, but when I checked, it looks like you’ve only canceled your meetings with him. I wanted to see if there was anything of which I should be aware.”

“No,” said Asami coldly. “I’m busy. I’m simply prioritizing. Nothing General Iroh has to say to me today seemed important.” 

_ Uh oh. _ Whatever had happened, it sounded bad. While Asami and Iroh not talking would undoubtedly complicate RCCC leadership, that was a problem Iameh could handle, at least for a while. The bigger issue seemed to be that General Iroh himself had no idea what he’d done. He’d gone to see Asami as soon as she’d told him of the schedule change, but apparently she hadn’t been willing to see him. He’d been sullen and angry the rest of the day, and Iameh couldn’t get more than two words out of him at once. She’d finally given up and canceled his own meetings so that he didn’t accidentally deck someone. Iroh didn’t seem to have noticed. He had spent the remainder of the morning at his desk, staring dully at paperwork she knew he wasn’t reading.

“Is there anything that I can work on rescheduling?” she asked.

“No. If anything urgent comes up, you can come to me directly.” 

“Very well,” said Iameh. “If anything changes, please let me know. I know the head of the RCCC is eager to resume collaboration.” Asami’s face darkened at that, but she said nothing. 

Poor Iroh. While his personal life was none of her business, they’d learned to look out for one another, and she liked him. Besides, he was no use to anyone the way he was at the moment, which was a dangerous thing to have in your top commander. And it was obvious that he and Asami were deeply in love. Or at least, they had been on Friday. Though he expressed it as anger, Iameh suspected Iroh was more hurt and confused than anything. And given how Asami was acting, who could blame him?

Asami looked down at the papers in front of her and picked up a pen. She scratched out something, using enough pressure to nearly tear the page. Iameh, sensing she was dismissed, made her way out of the office. She’d hoped to learn at least something that could help, but had clearly come up empty. Whatever had happened between Iroh and Asami, they would have to work it out on their own.


	20. ASAMI

Asami sat at her desk dissecting a report on automated street lights. There was probably more red than black ink at this point, but that was the way of things. Everything was bound to disappoint you eventually. She scratched out another sentence, leaving a long bloody line across the page. 

The door to her office swung open. “Asami.”

“Go away, Iroh,” she said, not looking up. He hadn’t even knocked, the bastard. She heard the door close and sighed in relief, but when she looked up she saw that he’d only closed it behind him.

“No,” he said, looking at her intently. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” she said, abruptly slamming her pen down on the desk. “You want to do this here? Okay.” 

Iroh looked taken aback. “Do what? Asami, I have no idea what’s happening. Everything was fine last night, and then today you won’t even talk to me. What did I do?” 

“No, Iroh. That’s not the question. The question is, who did you do?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I didn’t… what? Asami, I don’t understand.” Iroh took a bewildered step forward. 

“Maybe I’ll ask Mako,” she snapped. Asami clung to her anger, redoubling her grip on it. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming in anguish. If Iroh was going to keep pretending that she was stupid as well as worthless, she had reports to read. “Get out, Iroh. Come talk to me when you’re feeling more honest.” Iroh blinked at her as if she’d slapped him, then hung his head. He looked miserable, and for a moment Asami felt like her heart would simply shatter. But whose fault was that, really? 

Iroh turned and put one hand on the doorknob, then paused.

“Wait,” he said. “Mako?” He looked back over his shoulder and frowned. “Did you by any chance hear Mako and I arguing last night?”

“You’re damned right I did. And to hell with both of you.”

Iroh sighed. He took his hand off the doorknob and rubbed at his temples. “ _Fuck,_ ” he said softly.

“I bet,” she said.

“Stop it. I’m not cheating on you, Asami.” She froze. He wasn’t? 

“Then what did Mako see you do that you refuse to tell me about?” 

“It’s not even about me. It’s… ” Iroh ran a hand through his hair. His expression looked pained. “Spirits, well if the alternative is that you think I’m involved with someone else, okay. A few nights ago, Mako did a raid on one of the triads. And he swears that at least one of them had one of your smackers, the air ones. As you know, the United Forces already put a sole-source in place that should mean that tech is only sold to us. Mako wanted to figure out how Future Industries wound up selling weapons mecha to the triads on the side, and he came to me about it. I told him he didn’t have enough evidence. After all, who knows what he actually saw? I didn’t want you and Future Industries dragged into an investigation until I could do a little more digging myself, so I told him to lay off. I know how protective you are of the company, so I didn’t want to worry you unless we were sure there was a problem. And if it turned out there _was_ a problem, I didn’t want it to look like you were covering it up by having known ahead of time.”

Asami was stunned. She’d been so convinced. She’d spent most of the night crying, in turns furious and devastated, and had woken up determined to do whatever it took to get through the day. She’d never even considered that she’d only heard part of the conversation. But Iroh’s story fit, and if she was honest with herself she didn’t think he could have made up such an elaborate lie. Especially one that Mako could easily verify. Relief flooded into her. It had all been a horrible mistake. Who cared about missing mecha if Iroh loved her? 

“You were protecting me?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Iroh said quietly, and Asami could hear the pain in his voice, even in that single word. “But you thought I was… how could you think that of me?” 

She suddenly felt cold all over. “No, Iroh, I didn’t—”

“You did. And you didn’t even want to ask me if it was true? You just… believed the worst and dropped me, just like that?” The color was gone from his face, his expression twisted with grief. He looked like she’d just walked up and calmly stabbed him in the heart. Which, Asami thought, she basically had.

“No, that’s not it, I just needed—” 

“I thought you trusted me.” Iroh’s voice was so soft now it was almost a whisper. He looked down at the carpet. “I thought you loved me. But you wouldn’t even… Asami, you didn’t even ask.”

“Iroh—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. He wouldn’t look at her. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I need to think.” He opened the door and left, closing it firmly behind him.

Oh spirits, what had she done?


	21. IROH

Iroh lay on his back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. His book lay abandoned on the coffee table. He’d given up once he realized he’d read the same paragraph six times. There didn’t seem to be much point. 

After a while he got up and walked to the kitchen, then stood in front of the refrigerator. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t anything. He felt empty, scoured. He'd told Asami that he needed time to think, but now that he was alone he found that thinking was the very last thing he wanted to do. In some ways it would have been easier if he’d been angry. He knew what to do with that. Instead, it felt like he’d died and no one had bothered to tell him.

Iroh glanced out the window. It was too dark to run, but perhaps he could go to the gym. Hitting something might be good. Or maybe he’d just keep walking. He could go to the rough side of town and try to get someone to fight him. But getting arrested for brawling twice in one year probably wasn’t a good idea. And with Asami gone, there would be no one to feed Ling if he was in jail. Perhaps he should just go get drunk. That was a thing to do, wasn’t it? Maybe he’d wind up fighting someone anyway, but at least then he’d have an excuse. 

Iroh went to get his keys, then walked to the door. He opened it to find Asami, one arm poised to knock, the other around a paper bag. She’d changed out of her work clothes into something more casual. Her face was pale and blotchy, her green eyes rimmed with red.

“Hi,” she said quietly, lowering her hand.

“Hi.”

“Can we talk? I brought Kashiba’s, and—”

Iroh stepped forward and grabbed her, pulling her into an embrace. She instantly wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight, her fingers digging into his back. He heard the paper bag hit the floor, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except Asami, not gone, but here. He pressed her close as if his life depended on it, and maybe in that moment it did. He felt her face burrow into his neck, hot tears wetting his skin. Iroh could smell her hair, the familiar scent he had grown to associate with pillows and comfort and home. He rested his cheek on her head and just held her as she cried, all strength and softness and _his_. He didn’t ever want to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, after a while.

“I’m the one… should have asked…” Asami’s voice came out muffled, her breath hitching.

“No, not that. I’m sorry for the things that happened to you that make you think I’m going to leave.” He felt her hug him tighter. “But I’m not. I’m not Mako, Asami. And I’m not your father. I’m the one who stays. But please, let me prove it to you. Don’t push me away.” Asami cried harder, something in her seeming to let go. That was okay. If that was what she needed, he’d be here for it. His eyes stung. 

“Stt—stupid,” she sobbed. “S—so much… couldn’t… couldn’t…” The rest of her words were lost among the tears.

“Shh, hey.” He rubbed her back a little as she trembled against him. “It’s okay. I understand. ‘The more violent the love, the more violent the anger.’”

“W—what?”

“Just some good advice I got once.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come on in. I’ll make you tea.” She nodded into his chest, then went to reach for the bag. He held her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the food. Go sit. Or say hi to Ling. She missed you.” Asami nodded again, then slipped past him into the apartment. 

***

Iroh lay on his back on the couch again. Asami was wrapped around him, her head on his shoulder, arm curled around his chest, one leg bent casually across his hips. He twirled a finger gently in her hair. They didn’t fit side-by-side on the sofa, not really, but neither one of them seemed to want any space between them at all. She shifted slightly, and his arm tightened protectively around her. He’d make sure she didn’t fall.

“So,” Asami said, “one of the triads has a smacker?”

“I don’t know. Mako seems to think so. I don’t see how though.”

“You know we’d never sell to them. Even if we didn’t have the UF contract.”

“I know.”

“Which means one of three things. Either Mako’s wrong, I’ve got a leak, or you’ve got a leak.” Iroh nodded. That was pretty much the conclusion he’d come to as well. “How do we figure out which one it is? You weren’t wrong. Starting a formal investigation could be devastating.”

“I don’t know,” Iroh said. “Maybe we should talk to Mako after all. He might have some ideas, if he’s willing to go a little bit off the books.”

“Off the books sounds as much like Mako as it does like you,” Asami said.

“Hey. I went to the South Pole, didn’t I? And you said Mako did that secret stakeout with you once. Give us a little credit.” He felt Asami smile into his chest. 

“Good point,” she said. “I can pop over to the precinct tomorrow and ask him.”

“You know, it’s only a few blocks from here. If you stay over, we can both go first thing.”

“Are you seducing me?”

“Of course not. I’m making a very sound, logical, and completely self-interested argument for you to stay with me.” 

“Well in that case.” He felt Asami snuggle into him. “Okay. I’ll stay.” He squeezed her gently and rested his chin on her head. Good. That was good.


	22. ASAMI

The Republic City Police Department was one of the oldest and most elaborate buildings in the city. It was twelve stories high and done in the old Earth Kingdom style, complete with a large central spire and four smaller towers. Separated from City Hall by a wide open square, together they formed the heart of the old city. The entire building wasn’t all police these days, but the building’s massive presence still symbolized the order and balance that the founding of Republic City had represented. Originally Iroh had proposed that Republic City Central Command be co-located there instead of City Hall, but Chief Beifong had fought him. She’d said she didn’t want the hassle, but Iroh had told Asami he thought the chief simply didn’t like change.

Asami and Iroh made their way up to the detective bureau on the ninth floor. Iroh finally dropped her hand, somewhat reluctantly she thought, as they left the elevator. He didn’t usually show much overt affection in public, especially when he was in uniform, but he had seemed more devoted than usual this morning. She couldn’t blame him. After what might have happened, she didn’t want to let him go, either. 

They found Mako in the open bay where the detectives sat, reading a stack of papers, one elbow on the desk. He looked tired. Like Asami, Mako was not a morning person. “Buy you a coffee, detective?” she asked as they approached. 

Mako jumped. He clearly hadn’t seen them come in. “Oh, hi. Asami? And Iroh, I mean, er, General. Um. Good to… can this wait? I have to file these reports by, well, yesterday, but if I can finish them before Chief Beifong gets in she’ll never know.”

“What will Chief Beifong never know, detective?” said a woman’s voice behind them. Asami heard the sound of a door opening. 

Mako flinched. “Never know… how much I need a coffee?” he said. He rubbed briefly at one temple, looking down at the stack of reports. Then his shoulders slumped. “Let me get my wallet.”

They walked across the open square, careful not to get too close to anyone who could overhear. Although they’d be seen talking, Mako said it was better to be seen and not heard than the other way around, and had insisted they leave the building.

“How are you?” Mako asked her. He looked concerned. Iroh had filled him in on the past few days, making it clear that he had told Asami everything but leaving out most of the details of their fight.

“I’m all right,” Asami said. Then she shook her head. “No, I mean, I’m furious. And terrified. If it turns out it’s true, that could be the end of Future Industries. Not to mention what it means for the city for anyone to be arming the Triple Threats.” Mako had shared that it was his old gang that had been the culprits. “But I’m also relieved.” She glanced quickly at Iroh. She wanted to touch him again, but stopped herself. “After all, it could always be worse.”

Mako caught the look. His face formed a question, but neither she nor Iroh said anything further. “Okay,” he said finally. “So, now you know what I know. We need to find out more. I’ll hold off on anything formal for a few more days, but that’s all I can promise.”

Iroh nodded. “Thank you. Any suggestions? Asami and I were hoping that you might know where to start.” At her name she felt Iroh’s hand brush hers, almost like he was checking that she was still there. 

Mako frowned. At first, he didn’t answer. Then he said: “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we’re planning another raid on the Trips. Saturday night, at a suspected bucket shop in central.”

“You want us to go on a raid?” Asami asked. It didn’t sound like a very subtle way to get more information. She would likely be recognized by the police, and Iroh would for certain. 

“Of course not,” said Mako, shaking his head. “But it means we know both where the Triple Threats are going to be on Saturday and when the police are going to hit them. Which means that we also probably know where they are going to be on Friday night, and that the police  _ won’t _ hit them.”

Iroh nodded. “Basic scout.”

“Right. So I’ll check it out on Friday and let you know if I see anything that looks like Asami’s mecha again. Without the pressure of a raid, I might learn something. If I don’t, I still have the raid on Saturday as a back-up.”

Asami frowned slightly. “Mako, you said ‘I’ like you meant we’re not coming.”

He looked surprised. “Because you aren’t.”

“Of course I am,” said Iroh. He said it matter-of-factly, as if they were discussing going to a party together instead of trying to sneak up on one of the largest and most dangerous gangs in Republic City. “This concerns the United Forces now, as well as Republic City Central Command. If any of the bending triads have access to military-grade mecha, that’s bigger than the Republic City Police. Especially if it’s been stolen from the Forces in some way.” 

Mako shook his head. “No. I can’t take you. If I’m doing it off the books, then the RCCC doesn’t officially know anything yet. It’s still police business. Besides, it’s too dangerous.” 

Iroh looked amused. “You do realize, Mako, that you were twelve when I joined the army? Asami says I’m a pretty decent firebender, too. I appreciate that you think it’s dangerous, but I like my odds.” 

Mako had the decency to look chagrined. “Okay, maybe. I don’t know. Maybe, Iroh. But not you, Asami. The Triple Threats are the real deal. I would know. I can't risk it.”

“No way!” Asami hissed. “Besides, you’ve already taken me on a stakeout.” Iroh frowned at that. She’d told him what had happened at the end of the stakeout, and he didn’t seem to like being reminded of it. She glanced at Mako and saw that he looked a little uncomfortable as well. 

“I actually agree with Mako on this,” said Iroh, putting a hand on her elbow. “I think it should just be Mako and I.” Asami stared at him in disbelief. Iroh usually supported her. 

“What? Iroh, that’s ridiculous. You know I can handle myself. You even said a few weeks ago we were evenly matched.”

He shook his head. “In hand-to-hand combat, maybe. But that’s not what I meant. The whole reason I didn’t want to tell you about all of this in the first place is because it puts you and your company at risk. Think about it. If Mako or I get seen sniffing around the Triple Threats, either of us can say it’s part of our duties, him for the police and myself as head of overall city defense. There’s no reason to mention the mecha or Future Industries at all. But if you’re there, it’s a harder story to tell. And if it turns out Mako is right, and the triad does somehow have one or more of your smackers, it could even look like you were caught red-handed meeting with them.”

Asami paused at that. Iroh had a point. But she hated the idea of being left out, especially of something that directly concerned her. In one way, Iroh had been right. The idea that bending triads were using her smackers to hurt people was breaking her heart. Any harm they caused would be her fault. She’d have to think. In the meantime, though, it was easier to agree.

“Fine,” she said. “But from here on out, I’m fully in the loop. No more keeping things from me, either of you.” She looked at Iroh again, and he nodded stiffly. They both knew what keeping secrets had almost cost them. 

“I can’t promise that,” said Mako. Asami opened her mouth to object, but he held out a hand. “But I  _ can _ promise I’ll tell you everything that wouldn’t compromise our investigation into the Triple Threats. I swear. And Iroh will probably tell you everything anyway.” 

Iroh nodded again. “I will.”

Asami sighed. “All right.” It would have to do for now.


	23. IROH

They were nearly back at Iroh’s apartment before Bolin asked the question. It was on his face as soon as he’d seen him, a slight wariness, a little strain about the eyes perhaps, and Iroh had been waiting to see if he would actually ask. He had always thought that you could learn a lot about a man by whether or not they stood up to their friends, and was curious what Bolin would do. 

“So, Iroh,” Bolin said as they finally slowed to a walk. The last two blocks were always cool down. “I… I wanted to ask you something.”

“All right,” Iroh said. His opinion of Bolin went up. Not that he was terribly surprised. He was starting to suspect that, underneath his goofy exterior, Bolin had quite a bit of steel.

“Okay.” Bolin took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself. “Iroh, you aren’t… there’s no chance you’re…” He shook his head, pursed his lips, then blurted out: “Iroh, are you cheating on her?” 

“No,” Iroh said calmly. “I’m not.” 

Bolin looked sideways at him, seemingly judging his expression. “That’s it? Just no?”

“Just no. I’m not sure what else there is to say. I love Asami very much. I don’t think I’ve even looked at another woman in almost a year. And if Asami may have gotten the wrong impression earlier this week, rest assured that I’ve set the record straight.”

Bolin narrowed his eyes. “So… you and Asami are all right?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t… well, Korra said... she said that you might have broken up.”

“Did she?” Iroh realized he’d had no idea what, if anything, Asami might have told any of their friends about what had happened earlier that week. 

“Yeah. But it’s not true, right?”

“No. It’s definitely not.” 

“Phew!” said Bolin. His face broke into a smile. “Thank goodness. I didn’t like the idea of trying to kick your ass. You don’t exactly seem like a pushover, Iroh. But after what Asami has been through, if I thought, well… anyway, I’m glad it’s nothing.” Iroh felt one side of his mouth tick up in a smile. He didn’t fancy a fight with Bolin, either, but he liked his chances. He made a mental note to see if he’d be up for sparring sometime. Iroh didn’t get much practice against earthbenders outside of smackball, and getting better at using his fire to push rocks around could be helpful.

Bolin caught Iroh’s amused look and suddenly seemed a little embarrassed. “Not that I really thought you’d… I mean, it’s you two, right? If you break up there’s really no hope for the rest of us. That would be like pulling the meat out of a wonton, or…” 

Iroh raised an eyebrow. _Wonton?_

“Or…” Bolin sputtered a bit, “or you know, separating something that really, _really_ goes with something else.” 

Iroh couldn’t help it. He laughed. “We’re fine, I promise,” he said. Then he thought for a moment. If Korra knew what had happened though, and so did Mako, it hardly seemed either fair or practical to keep Bolin in the dark. “We do have a problem though,” he said finally. 

“Triple Threats,” said Bolin when he’d finished explaining what Mako had thought he’d seen. It wasn’t a question, even though Iroh hadn’t named the triad.

“How did you know?” 

“Takes one to know one.” Bolin gave him a sad smile, bracing one foot against the wall. They were standing outside the door to Iroh’s building now, stretching, Iroh keeping a careful watch to make sure no one was passing by. “You know Mako and I were Trips, right? After our parents died. But they were the only group that would take us in. Think about it. Agni Kai is all firebenders, Terras are earthbenders. The Triple Threats were the only ones looking for both. So who would want an airbender, right? Even a fake one? And Zolt and Shady Shin never got their bending back from Korra, either, come to think of it. The Trips are the only triad that would be in the market for that kind of mecha. Everyone else is too exclusive.”

Iroh thought about it. Though Mako had already told him the raid had been on the Triple Threats, he hadn’t understood the potential motivation until just now. Airbending would be an asset that no other triad had, and if certain members of the gang had lost their bending, that made mecha like Asami’s smackers all the more attractive. He was surprised he hadn’t put it together himself. But, as Bolin had said, perhaps it took one to know one.

***

Mako called him later that morning to tell him the plan was off. 

“What?” Iroh tried to keep his voice down. Though his office door was closed, he still didn’t want anyone overhearing their conversation. There was always a chance that there _was_ a leak, and it was on the RCCC side, so it wasn’t too early to start being careful.

“I said, it’s off. I can’t make it tonight. I’ll still be part of the raid though, and I’ll tell you what I learn. And before you ask, no, you can’t come. That one really is police business.”

“But what’s so important that you can’t do it tonight? Mako, this is important.”

There was a pause on the other end. Finally, Mako mumbled something.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“I… I have a date,” Mako said quietly. 

Iroh's brow furrowed. He'd thought better of Mako than that. “You’re blowing off a critical intelligence gathering operation, day-of no less, for a _date?_ Who’s so important they couldn’t wait until next week?”

“Mybozzaknees.”

“Who?”

Mako made a deep sighing noise. “My… my boss’s niece,” he said finally. He sounded frustrated. “She’s visiting from Zaofu. I filed last month’s reports late, remember? I’m pretty sure this is the chief’s way of punishing me. Not that… not that I have any reason to think she isn’t nice or anything! I don’t really know anything about her. But I wasn’t given much choice, is all. When Chief Beifong asked what I was doing tonight I couldn’t come up with a good lie. I’m supposed to show her around Republic City.” 

Iroh thought for a moment. That was certainly bad timing. But if Mako pushed back, that might tip Lin off that something was going on, and that would be equally bad. He had no doubt that she wouldn’t hesitate to lock him up again if he was caught doing something questionable, and might not be so lenient on the charges this time, either. And there was no way that Mako could be in two places at once. Then Iroh had an idea. 

“Do you think you could get Bolin to do it?” he asked. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t think of a more Bolin idea than having him come save some young woman from an evening of boredom with his presence. He would actually probably be a lot better at it than Mako would be. Iroh considered Mako a friend now, but “cheery tour guide” was not the image that came to mind when he thought of him. 

Mako was silent for a moment. “Maybe,” he said. 

Iroh latched on to the idea. Going tonight was too important, and they might not get another chance. “And you wouldn’t really be letting Chief Beifong down, either, right? Her niece would still have a tour guide. You probably wouldn’t even have to tell her. Just have Bolin show up instead.”

Another long pause. “All right,” Mako said. “I’ll see what I can do.”


	24. IROH

Iroh looked in the mirror and frowned. He looked like an idiot. He was wearing the inside vest and pants from the only suit he owned, a dark brown affair he’d gotten for some event or other ages ago. He hadn’t worn it in years, instead preferring his United Forces uniform for formal occasions, and it was a little tight. Underneath the vest he wore a dress shirt and tie, both white. A soft brown fedora H-mom had sent him sat perched on his head. As far as he knew he’d never worn it. The in-between outfit felt odd to him; he was used to either being in uniform, or not, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of being what he considered half-dressed. Iroh sighed, then put on his glasses. If he was going to try to infiltrate an underground gambling operation without being recognized, he may as well fully commit.

He met Mako outside the train station. Mako was dressed similarly, with gray pants and vest and a red tie, though to Iroh he seemed to wear the casual clothes much more easily. He wore his felt hat low, somewhat hiding his face.

“You wear glasses?” Mako asked as he approached. “Since when?”

“Who wears a red tie?” Iroh countered. He was still a little sensitive about the glasses, whatever Asami said.

Mako smiled. “Ready?”

Iroh nodded. “Now what?”

“Now,” Mako said, “we see if we get lucky.”

Mako led them around the back of the train station, then through a series of alleys. Iroh tried to keep track of where they were, but was soon lost in the twists and turns. The spirit vines were thicker here, too, and before long they were climbing over and ducking under the thick green foliage. He caught occasional glimpses of the bright spirits themselves as they skittered out of view, but nothing bothered them. 

After about ten minutes of walking Mako pulled up outside a door. It was utterly unremarkable, just a brown door in a gray wall that could have been any of thousands in the city. Iroh had no idea how Mako knew how to find it, but he supposed that was, after all, his job. 

Mako looked at him. “All right,” he said quietly. “Here we go.” 

He knocked. At first, nothing happened. Then a gruff voice on the other side said, “Password?”

“Lychee nuts,” said Mako promptly. There was a grunt from behind the door, then the sound of a series of locks being undone. The door swung inward.

“Welcome to paradise,” said the voice.

***

The door opened onto a scene unlike anything Iroh had ever seen. It led into a kind of warehouse, with a low metal ceiling covered in naked beams. He thought that it might have been used to store freight at some point, given how close they were to the train station. But instead, the entire place had been decked out like a party. Glowing lanterns hung from the beams, bathing the room in soft, dim light. A long bar ran along the left side of the building, its back wall glittering with bottles of every shape, size, and color. Tables had been set up throughout the room, many displaying various games of chance. Men and women crowded around, almost all of them with a drink in hand, laughing and cheering. Other tables seemed to be for sitting or standing, and little knots of people leaned against them or lounged in folding chairs, talking quietly to their companions. 

The room hummed with conversation, broken by the occasional shout or swear. Iroh had been to plenty of parties, but, like his clothing, they were generally either formal gatherings with lots of quiet decorum or very informal ones with only intimate friends. He’d seen the shady side of some ports during his time with the fleet of course, but he’d stopped frequenting those years ago, and even back then he’d remembered them mostly as sad. To see so many young people being quite so raucous made him a little uncomfortable. Iroh noticed that the men were largely dressed like he and Mako, and felt suddenly glad to not stand out in such an unfamiliar environment. The women, he saw, wore mostly short dresses, loose-fitting, but with plunging necklines that left very little to the imagination. He wondered briefly what Asami would look like in something like that and felt his throat constrict. He tried not to think about it, instead looking over at Mako, hoping for a hint as to what to do next. 

“Drinks,” Mako said, and walked confidently over to the bar. Iroh followed him. He didn’t much want a drink, instead preferring to keep his wits about him, but he’d promised that he’d follow Mako’s lead. The bartender proved to be about Mako’s age, but almost twice as wide, with a big, barrel chest, green eyes so dark they were almost brown, and a shock of thick caramel hair. He wore suspenders over a rather dingy white shirt, and it looked to Iroh like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. The new growth did him no favors, coming in in ragged patches across his lip and chin. 

“Yeah?” he said, giving Iroh and Mako a once-over. 

“Old fashioned,” said Mako, then glanced back at Iroh. Iroh shrugged slightly; he wasn’t much of a cocktail drinker, but this didn’t seem like the kind of place where one ordered a beer. “And, uh, grasshopper for the big guy,” Mako said, hooking a thumb at Iroh. Iroh smiled in thanks. He didn’t know what a grasshopper was, but it sounded enough like a drink. The bartender raised an eyebrow and looked at Iroh, then grunted once and turned to fix the drinks. 

Iroh scanned the room. He didn’t see anything that looked like Asami’s mecha, but they were small and wouldn’t be obvious. He also couldn’t tell who in the room might be benders. He saw a few men who looked like they might be from the Water Tribe, and at least one with the dark hair and golden eyes of the Fire Nation, but in a place like Republic City that hardly meant anything.

The bartender turned back and put two drinks on the bar. The first was short and squat, and looked like liquid amber poured over a single ice cube. The second was in a tall fluted glass, and looked a bit like what he spit out after brushing his teeth, only girlier. Iroh’s heart sank. He had a feeling he knew which drink was his. Mako smiled at him, then nodded to the bartender. “Cheers,” he said, grabbing the amber drink. “Don’t be cheap, Iroh. You make three times what I do.” Then he walked away. Iroh grumbled and paid, grabbed his noxious-looking drink, then followed Mako into the crowd.


	25. IROH

“Nothing here,” said Mako after a while. He pitched his voice low, making sure only Iroh could hear him. “Or nothing we’re going to see, at any rate. I only caught the smacker last time because it was a raid. Nothing gets weapons out faster, if there are any. Honestly, nothing marks the benders faster, either. Bang open the door and yell ‘police!’ and all the non-benders hit the deck or rush for the exits. The benders though, they always fight. It’s so predictable. It’s like they want to wear targets or something.” Iroh, who had long ago developed a theory that the arrogance of benders was their biggest weakness, and had used that fact to get out of a couple of tight spots himself, nodded in agreement.

“Anyway,” said Mako, “all of this out here is pretty tame. Not all of its legal, mind you, but it’s small stuff. But I used to run the books and I know things like this are just a cover. The real money changes hands in the back. Any stolen goods or weapons won’t be out here unless someone is wearing them.”

“So how do we see what’s in the back?” Iroh asked. For the first time he noticed the door set into the far wall of the warehouse. One way in, one way out. Not good.

“We don’t,” Mako said. “It’s way too dangerous. Maybe, if I was very lucky, I could sneak in and get a glimpse, but there are always two lookouts at least. That’s what Bolin started as, actually. It’s too much of a risk, and we have no way to know if it’s even worth it.”

Iroh thought. There had to be a way. Otherwise they’d leave with nothing. “What if the Triple Threats took us back there?” he asked.

Mako’s eyes narrowed. “Why would they do that?”

“Because we’re going to have something to sell.” 

***

“Fish Finz used to run backroom point,” Mako said, “but he’s been in RCP-W since last year.” RCP-W was the wing of Republic City Prison reserved for waterbenders. “I don’t know who the new guy is, but I bet I can find him.”

“Fish fins?” Iroh asked. “What kind of name is that?”

“Finzen,” Mako said. “You should know all about nicknames, Fireball. Anyway, it’s one of the better ones. There was a time when I was about ten that I thought ‘Bolin the Colon’ was the funniest damned thing I’d ever heard. Poor kid. I’m glad that never stuck.”

Iroh smiled a little at that. He knew all about big brothers. Not much rhymed with Iroh, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t all beaten the hell out of each other growing up. There was a reason Iroh was fast. 

Mako scanned the room again, then made his way over to the far wall where three men were clustered around a small table. Two of them were the Water Tribe men Iroh had noted earlier. They looked similar enough to one another that he thought they might be brothers, and they seemed to be going out of their way to show they were rich. Gold flashed on their ears and fingers, and each displayed a thick gold watch that, if it was genuine, might have cost Iroh two month’s salary in the top spot at RCCC. The other man was short and reedy, with black hair, dark tan skin, and a thin pencil mustache. Mako tapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m looking for the can,” said Mako, meeting his eyes. “You know where they keep the key?” Iroh guessed it must be some kind of pass phrase.

The little man frowned slightly, then said, “Out back with the rooster pigeons.” 

Mako gave him a curt nod, apparently satisfied. He cocked his head towards Iroh. “I’d like you to meet my friend here. He told me something interesting today.” The man nodded, said something quietly to the two Water Tribe men, then motioned for them to follow. He didn’t take them to the back though. Instead, he walked a little ways away from the main part of the party, then ducked behind one of the large metal beams that held up the roof. Mako and Iroh followed. 

As soon as they rounded the corner Iroh saw the knife. Though the little man held it low, the edge had just caught the reflection of one of the overhead lights. He reached to grab the back of Mako’s vest, but he’d seen it too and stopped short.

“What are you playing at?” Mako asked, holding both hands out in front of him. 

The little man scowled at thim. “I’d ask you the same thing. Think I don’t know you’re a cop? I marked you the second you walked in the door.”

“Of course I’m a cop,” said Mako evenly. “How do you think I came by anything decent to sell?” Iroh was impressed. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to come up with a story on the spur of the moment. “Don’t tell me I’m the first one, either. You know what they pay us.” 

“Okay,” the man said, lowering the knife a little. “I’ll bite. What’cha got, and who’s your friend here?”

“One and the same,” Mako said. “This fellow’s a bit hard up. From some fancy family back in the Fire Nation. They caught him messing around with some non-bender over here in RC and cut him off.” Iroh frowned at that. He didn’t like dragging Asami into things, even if it was just as a cover story. “He’s strapped, came to me looking for a buyer. He’s with the United Forces, and says he has some new weapons mecha that could be… let’s say, misplaced. I thought it a professional courtesy to ask the Trips if they were interested, for a cut, but”—Mako looked down at the knife—“I’m happy to go elsewhere.”

The man squinted at Iroh. “You expect me to believe the guy with glasses and the old lady drink is in the Forces?” he asked.

“Desk job,” said Mako, and shrugged. Iroh thought he might just kill him if they got out of this all right. “But you’d be amazed what the paper pushers have access to.”

The man thought for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. Wait here.” He walked past them back into the room and returned a minute later trailed by the two Water Tribe men. “This way.” He and Mako set their drinks down on a nearby table—Iroh hadn’t touched his—and followed the little man to the back of the room. The two brothers fell in behind them. Iroh didn’t like having them at his back. It made him uncomfortable. Come to think of it, he was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this. He shifted a little and started building tension in his right hand, just in case. There wasn’t much he could do without moving his arm and giving himself away, but even a half-second head start could be an advantage if it came to that.

The man stopped in front of the door in the back, then knocked in a rapid staccato. After a few seconds there was an answering knock. The little man nodded, then opened the door and walked inside. Mako glanced back at Iroh briefly, then followed. 

As soon as the Water Tribe men were inside, one of them shut the door with a slam, plunging the room into near darkness. Cold moonlight shone through a narrow window at the top of the wall. Iroh heard a lock click. That wasn’t good. He instinctively released the tension in his hand, bringing forth a fistfull of flames. 

“That’s about what I thought,” said the voice of the little man. Iroh could just make him out across the room in the flickering light. He caught the glint of the knife, which was once again in his hand. He stood next to a huge bruiser of a man, taller than Iroh, dressed in a dark striped suit. Grasped in front of him was another, smaller shape. It looked vaguely human, but seemed to be covered in a dark cloth. It wiggled slightly. The little man poked the tip of the knife into it and the movement stopped. “That’s better,” he said. He looked at Mako, then at Iroh, making sure he had their full attention. “Don’t try anything or it’s going to get ugly,” he said. 

Iroh felt cold water wind its way around his chest, binding his arms to his sides, but he didn’t fight it. If there was indeed someone else in the room, he couldn’t risk them getting hurt. Even if he could be faster than the knife—and he wasn’t sure that he could be—there was a chance they might get caught in a crossfire. He let the fire in his hand go out as the water whip pulled tight, but luckily found he could still see a little.

“Don’t worry,” said the little man. “We’ll still talk. Could be I’ve got something to sell, too.” He reached up and pulled the cloth down, releasing a dark cloud of wavy hair. Asami’s face, pale and terrified, stared back at him. “This belong to one of you?”


	26. ASAMI

The first thing Asami saw was Iroh. “No!” he shouted, his face contorting. He lunged towards her, but was brought up short by the water whip now around his arms and chest. Bright blue sparks flew from the tips of his fingers. “Let her go!” The cords on his neck stood out as he struggled against the bonds, but it was no use. The big waterbender on the left held him fast, though he seemed to be straining a bit with the effort. Iroh took a breath and then lunged forwards again, but the other man yanked him back. Then he punched Iroh hard in the stomach. Asami flinched and tried to move, to go to him, but the man holding her gripped her tight and a moment later she felt the knife press against her side again. Iroh bent over double, coughing, then tried to twist, but the watery ropes might as well have been bands of iron. He was trapped just as surely as she was.

The Triple Threat next to her, the little earthbender with the ridiculous mustache, just laughed. He was so close Asami could smell him, cigarettes and sweat. “Guess Glasses here knows her, at least,” he said, nodding at the struggling Iroh. “Caught her sneaking around the back about a half hour ago, and I figured, we already had a cop in the place, what’re the odds that two groups try to fuck us the same night? Seems like double aughts.” 

_You mean “nought” not “aught” you idiot,_ Asami thought. She hated when people ruined math. They’d gagged her, the rough cotton dry on her tongue, but she closed her eyes and tried to relax, to signal to Iroh that he should calm down. She’d seen right away that nothing they could do at the moment would get them out of this. Even free, they were outnumbered, not to mention in a building full of probable enemies. All his rage was likely to do was get him hurt further. But she heard Iroh continue to fight. Asami opened her eyes and looked pleadingly at Mako, hoping he’d understand. If anything happened to Iroh because she’d been caught… 

Mako, face pale, took the hint. He had seemed to know instantly what kind of situation they were in and, unlike Iroh, he hadn’t moved at all. “Hey,” he said, slowly turning his head, careful to not make any sudden movements. “She’s okay, I. Calm down. Let’s hear them out. The Triple Threats were always a reasonable, business-minded bunch of people.” Asami could tell that he was trying to keep his voice casual, unconcerned, like they weren’t all completely terrified. She took note that he hadn’t used Iroh’s full name, either. Then Mako looked right at Mr. Mustache. “I’m sure we can work out something mutually beneficial, right?” 

“We’ll let Viper decide that,” Mustache said. Mako started, apparently recognizing the name. It didn’t seem like a good sign. Come to think of it, the name rang a distant bell for Asami as well. Wasn’t Viper the one who had double-crossed her and Mako when they’d done the stakeout, allowing all of her mecha tanks to be stolen? If so, that wasn’t good news. The idea of someone like Viper doing anything “mutually beneficial” was pretty laughable, from what she understood.

Finally, Iroh stopped struggling. He looked at her, his gold eyes still panicked. “Are you all right?” he asked, breathing hard. She nodded. She wasn’t, not really, but that was what he needed to hear. They’d hit her pretty hard when they’d found her, and she thought she might have even broken a rib or two, but if Iroh didn’t calm down he was going to get himself killed. 

Iroh looked at her a moment longer, then slumped against his bonds. “That’s better,” said the mustache man. “Let’s go.”

***

Asami, Iroh, and Mako were bundled out of the back room of the makeshift casino and towards the rear of a dark gray satomobile van. The giant man in the striped suit kept a firm hold of her, and the two waterbenders handled the men. Once they got to the van, the little earthbender held the glittering knife to her throat. She was getting really tired of that. “Move and she’s out,” he said, mostly to Iroh. He and Mako each held still while the giant man in the suit and the waterbenders exchanged the water whips for ropes. Asami, already tied beneath the heavy cloth, tried her best to stay still while images of electrocuting Mr. Mustache ran through her head on an endless loop. She hadn’t come unarmed, but they’d taken both the air and fire smacker from her. That was all they’d found, and she was hoping desperately to keep it that way. There might come a moment, but tied up, four-on-three, with a knife at her neck wasn’t it.

Their captors set Iroh and Mako against one wall of the van, her on the other, then slammed and locked the rear doors. Their wrists were bound behind their backs, and their ankles had been tied as well. They’d left Asami’s gag on, too, though they’d at least removed the cloth she’d been hidden in earlier. 

“Asami, see if you can come over here,” Iroh said quietly after they’d been moving for a minute. Although there was a solid wall between the back of the satomobile and the driver area, it wasn’t clear whether or not they could be heard. “Back to me.” Asami didn’t know what he was up to, but she used what movement she had in her legs to turn herself, then pushed and scraped across the floor of the van so that her lower back rested against Iroh’s knees. Even the controlled movement made her ribs twinge painfully, and she sucked in air. Inhaling only made the pain flare worse, and she gritted her teeth against the gag. She felt Iroh shift behind her and the cloth in her mouth pulled tight. It jerked once, then she felt the knot slide down the back of her neck. It gave her enough slack to tuck in her jaw and spit it out. “Better?” she heard Iroh ask.

“Ugh, yes, thanks,” she said, trying to work some spit back into her mouth. Her tongue tasted fuzzy.

“You did that with your teeth?” asked Mako. Asami pushed with her legs again and settled against the wall of the vehicle next to Iroh. Her shoulders were starting to ache along with her ribs, and resting against the cold metal was at least some relief. 

Iroh shrugged as well as he could with his arms bound. “In my experience everyone puts their focus into tying your hands tight. Gag knots are often sloppy, especially if they want you alive and are worried about suffocating you by accident. You might not be able to untie it, but there’s often enough slack to at least get it off your face, even without help.” 

_In his experience… how many times had Iroh been captured?_ Asami realized she’d never asked him. Unlike a lot of people in the United Forces, particularly men, he had never talked much about his experiences in actual combat, and she hadn’t pressed him. Though it wasn’t obvious with his clothes on, Iroh had an awful lot of scars. At first he’d been somewhat embarrassed, thinking all the marks might make him look weak or even ugly, but Asami had set him straight pretty quickly. Iroh was probably the bravest—not to mention least ugly—man she’d ever met, and she’d made sure he knew it.

Iroh leaned his head back against the wall, then turned towards her. She noticed at some point he’d lost his hat, though for some reason he was wearing his reading glasses. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine. A little banged up, that’s all. The skinny one is an earthbender. Hit me in the back with a huge rock, I never even saw him coming.” Iroh’s face darkened. He didn’t seem to think that constituted ‘fine.’ “Then that giant grabbed me. I don’t know if he can bend or not. He tied me up and held me in that room until the little guy came back with you two and those waterbenders.”

“But what were you doing here in the first place?” said Mako, leaning forward slightly to see around Iroh. He seemed angry. “I told you not to come!”

Iroh snapped his head around. “ _Not now,_ ” said. “We can assign blame when everyone is safe. We have more important things to talk about.” Mako scowled at him, but kept quiet. Seeing them both next to her, Asami was once again struck by how they could look so similar and yet so very different at the same time. 

Iroh, perhaps attempting to keep the peace, changed the subject. “Mako, do you know these people? From before?”

Mako shook his head. “No, never seen them. Must be relatively new. I know the skinny guy is, at least, because I pinched his predecessor last year. But they’re taking us to Viper, and that’s… Iroh, that’s not good.”

“Who is he?” Iroh asked. Though some triad activity fell to the RCCC, most was still handled by the police, and neither she nor Iroh had enough to do with them to have much information about specific individuals.

“He heads up the Triple Threats now,” said Mako. “He toppled Zolt—that would be the old boss—after he lost his bending to Amon. And he’ll recognize me for sure. He worked with Bolin and I some back in the day, before he stepped up. He did a lot of short cons, that’s his thing, and a few needed kids. I see Bolin in the movers and sometimes I think that’s where he learned it. But even if that wasn’t true, he was the one that double-crossed Asami and I two years ago. He’ll recognize her, too.” Asami nodded. She’d been right then. She hated being right about bad news.

“He’s… he’s real bad,” Mako continued. He looked grim. “Not all the Triple Threats are, you know. Some of them are like Bolin and I, just lost kids who didn’t have a chance or a choice. Viper isn’t like that. Know why he’s called Viper? Vipers hunt with camouflage. They just lie there, lazy, looking like not much of a threat, until something they like walks past. Then they stab it in the back, release it so they don’t get bitten, and sit back to watch it to die. That’s Viper to a T. I think he gets off on it.”

“It gets worse,” Asami said. She may as well tell them. Both Iroh and Mako turned to look at her. “If the Triple Threats didn’t have smackers before, they do now. I thought my glove would be too obvious. They found them straight off when they grabbed me.” She dropped her voice until it was barely a whisper. “The ones on my hands, anyway.” 

Iroh’s brows knitted. “The ones… ?”

Asami smiled slightly. “Let’s just say I didn’t wear heels tonight.”


	27. IROH

The back door of the satomobile opened outside what looked like another warehouse. After further threats of harm if they fought or tried to escape, their ankles were untied, allowing Iroh, Asami, and Mako to walk under guard to the door of the building. Iroh noticed that most of the threats were to Asami. Mako, who probably knew enough to keep his head, had yet to resist. But the Triple Threats must have guessed that Iroh, who had given them far more trouble, would be a lot more compliant if they threatened to hurt Asami rather than him. They weren’t wrong, either. He’d been captured before—spirits, it seemed like it was becoming an annual event—and he knew he should have been less transparent, that the less information the enemy had about you, the better. Especially information about how to get to you. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. 

“One moment,” the little man said as they reached the door. He was obviously the one in charge of the group. “Just so I’m clear what we’re dealing with.” He scratched at his mustache, then nodded to the big bruiser in the pinstriped suit. The man walked over from Asami to where Iroh was standing, and he finally got a good look at him. He was much younger than Iroh had first thought, maybe no more than 18 or so. Small green eyes peered out from a pale, chubby face. His close-cut, bristly blonde hair disappeared up under a dark fedora that looked a size too small for his massive head. He was perhaps a little taller than Iroh, but wide and solid; he thought the man might outweigh him by as much as 80lbs, maybe more. Iroh stared at his piggy green eyes and straightened, trying to project confidence, unsure exactly what to expect.

The big man stopped right in front of him, rolled his shoulders a little, and set his feet. Then he hit Iroh in the face.

For a moment the world went white. Pain exploded in his cheek a split second later. He would have fallen, but the waterbender behind him caught him and held him fast. His vision swam, and he fought to stay conscious. Iroh had taken some nasty blows over the years, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever been hit in the head from a complete standstill before. For some reason he thought of the time he’d decked Commander Cuzon outside the conference room at City Hall. The bastard had deserved it, but still. Iroh hadn’t realized how much a punch like that actually hurt. 

“No!” he heard Asami yell. “Stop it! He didn’t do anything! Leave him alone!”

The little man smiled. “Ah, that’s what I thought. Ain’t love grand?” He looked at Asami, and she stared back at him with abject hatred. Iroh thought that if looks could kill, the earthbender would be nothing but a pile of smoking ash. “Now that we know where everybody’s loyalties lie,” the gangster said, apparently unfazed, “we’re all going to play nice with Viper, right? If Glasses moves, we go to work on the girl. If she moves, then he gets it instead. And third-wheel Copper over there, he reaps his own reward I guess. Got it?” He looked at each of them, as if daring them to disagree. Then he opened the door and led them inside.

Iroh shook his head a little, trying to clear it. Pain lanced from his cheekbone down into his neck. The left side of his face felt like it was on fire, and he could already feel it starting to swell. Iroh thought he’d be very lucky if nothing was broken. His reading glasses still seemed intact, but they hung askew, and with his arms behind his back he had no way of fixing them. He tried briefly to jostle them back into place, but it hurt too much to move his head.

The waterbender shoved him from behind and Iroh stumbled, then started to walk. He ventured another glance at Asami, who was once again being closely followed by the large man in the suit. She was walking all right, but to his eye she seemed to be holding herself stiffly, and he’d seen her wince when they got out of the van. Iroh thought she might be hurt worse than she was letting on. The idea made him want to blow holes in things. Big holes. Instead, as they walked he tested the ropes, flexing his hands slightly back and forth. There was no give. Clearly the Triple Threats knew what they were doing when it came to restraining benders. He’d have to think of something else.

Instead of the open space he’d been expecting, Iroh was surprised to find that the inside of the warehouse had been finished, and looked to him like nothing so much as an old and slightly run-down hotel. They walked down a series of hallways, each lit by a progression of naked yellowing bulbs in the low ceiling. Finally they came to a stop at a dead end outside a large unmarked door. The little man knocked.

“What?” said a voice on the other side.

“Tell Viper I got packages,” he answered. “Three.” There was a pause, then the scrape and jangle of a series of locks being undone. The door swung inward. 

They entered a long room lit by tall yellow lanterns. It was mostly bare of furniture, but was not the least bit less ostentatious for it. Huge tapestries hung from the walls, interspersed with hand-painted silk folding screens. The ceiling appeared to have been partially gilded, forming a pattern of shining gold stars against a deep, midnight blue. A thick blue and gray carpet ran up the center of the room, forming a kind of center aisle. At the end of the aisle, flanked by two men who might be bodyguards, was an enormous padded red chair that could only really be described as a throne. Upon this throne, was Viper.

The little earthbender, pinstripe suit, and the two waterbenders led them up the aisle to the center of the room. About 15 feet from the chair one of the bodyguards twitched, and they stopped. Nobody moved.

Iroh inspected Viper. He was thin and angular, with skin the color of milk tea, a long face, and deep-set watery blue eyes. He wore his jet-black hair short, and had thin sideburns that didn’t quite touch his sharp goatee. Despite the warm weather and the fact that they were indoors, he wore a high-collared gray coat. A thick gold chain dangled from his throat over a cream silk shirt. Though the two men looked nothing alike, Iroh was reminded forcibly of President Raiko and his gaudy, oversized office. Having actually grown up in a house with a throne room, he found he had very little patience for the way small men aped royalty with a few thick carpets and a big chair.

Viper stared at them each in turn. He appeared to study them carefully, dispassionately, his face a blank. It was more than a little unsettling. The longer the silence stretched, the more Iroh realized that they were in quite a bit of trouble. He had never been much of a talker, but even so, this didn’t seem like a man who would be swayed by pleas for mercy. His whole demeanor was still and cold. Viper, indeed.

“Shao,” Viper said sharply, breaking the silence. The little earthbender almost jumped. 

“Yes?” he said. His voice sounded small, uncertain.

“These are the packages you decided to bring to me, Shao?” Though the words were innocent enough, Iroh thought he detected a current of anger beneath them. Though his hands were still tied behind his back and his stomach and face ached where he’d been beaten, in that moment he would not have traded places with Shao for anything.

Shao swallowed. “Er. Yes.” 

“Do you know who they are, Shao?”

“Yes, Viper. A cop and his two friends. They were sniffing around the bucket shop on 10th when he pitched the same deal as that guy a few weeks ago. About the Forces mecha. It sounded fishy, so I picked them up. Found some on the lady, too, nice stuff. And I thought…” Shao swallowed again. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“No, Shao,” Viper said. He reached a hand up and rubbed at his forehead, as if frustrated. “It is _not_ just ‘a cop and his two friends.’ Though I admit, having General Iroh himself offer to sell us weapons is a twist I wasn’t predicting. I hardly expect the offer was genuine though, was it, Mako?” Iroh closed his eyes. Viper hadn’t just recognized Mako and Asami, then. Things had just gone from worse to desperate.

Shao’s eyes went wide. He looked from Iroh to Mako and back to Iroh again. “General… no. I wasn’t even sure he was really United Forces, and you’re saying he's the head of the whole damned thing? But he’s so young?” 

Viper narrowed his eyes slightly. “Yes, Shao,” he said, and his voice was like ice. He leaned forward. “I am saying that you captured a police detective _._ A police detective _who used to be a Triple Threat,_ and who knows me on sight. And you brought him, and his friend here, his friend who happens to be _the head of Republic City Central Command,_ to our headquarters. Our secret headquarters, I might add. With his girlfriend, President Raiko’s handpicked ambassador.”

Shao went white. “What? No, I didn’t… I didn’t know who they were, he was just some cop…”

Viper cut him off. “We’ll talk about this later, Shao,” he said sharply, and shook his head. Then he looked at Mako. “You see what I have to work with now? There’s a place for you here, you know. Bolin, too, though I admit that I’m a fan of his movers. Still, good men are hard to come by.” He gave Shao a hard look. “I even anticipate an opening.” Shao flinched.

“I’m done with that life, Viper,” Mako said. “You know that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work something out.”

Viper sighed, somehow conveying no emotion in it. “I thought that’s what you’d say.” He looked at Iroh. “I’m not even going to bother with you, Prince Charming. You’ve got goody goody written all over your face. The half I can see, at any rate.”

“I was arrested once,” Iroh said. He was tired, and his face hurt. 

Viper rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about your parking tickets, General. I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t like this, it’s bad business. But we’re going to have to kill you.”


	28. ASAMI

“You sexist asshole!” Asami blurted. Iroh and Mako had yelled as well, but she’d been the loudest. 

Viper blinked at her, surprised. It was probably the first genuine reaction she’d seen on his stupid, ratty face. “Excuse me?” he said. Then he turned to the waterbenders. “Will you shut those men up?” he said. Ropes of water curled over Iroh and Mako’s mouths, stifling their objections. It was up to her now.

“I said you’re a sexist asshole, Viper,” she said loudly. “What, I don’t get a deal? The men get the old ‘join or die’ speech and I don’t? I also have a name, you know, and last I checked it wasn’t ‘General Iroh’s girlfriend,’ either.” She did her best to look offended. Spirits, anything to give her time to think.

“I assure you that I’m not sexist, Miss Sato,” said Viper calmly. “And obviously I know your name.”

“Then why am I the only one that’s acting like a businessman?” She cocked her head towards Iroh and Mako. “Grunts like these are a dime a dozen. I get that. I would know, right? I’ve slept with both of them.” Brief hurt flashed across Iroh’s face, but she kept her tone dismissive. “But you and I, we can do business. I’m surprised to see a man like you leaving value on the table.”

Viper stared at her, clearly surprised. “I thought that, given your new role in government, trying to persuade you was a waste of my time. Not unlike your boyfriend there. No?”

“Shao there made a lot of assumptions, too,” she shot back. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Viper narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “I’m listening. You have one minute, Miss Sato, before I run out of patience.”

“Let’s see,” Asami said, and rolled her eyes. “You’ve got one fairly junior detective, one stubborn and rather principled soldier, and the president of the largest private weapons manufacturer in the Republic. One of these things is not like the other ones. Will you tell me which, or do I have to point that out to you, too?”

She could see Viper bristle at that. He clearly didn’t like the implication that he was missing something. “I am well aware of who you are, Miss Sato. I am also aware that your company will not sell your mecha to… alternative businesses. I know. I’ve made inquiries.”

“Inquiries that never reached me,” Asami said. “We sold mecha to the Equalists, didn’t we? What makes you think I won’t sell to you?”

“You fought the Equalists.”

“I fought my father,” she snapped. “And I won. I’m no ideologue, Viper, but so what? I do what I want now. I do what’s good for business, and what’s good for me. Like you.” She made a show of looking around the room. “Besides, I believe we can at least agree that circumstances have changed?”

Viper gave her a hard look, then his eyes flicked to Iroh. “And you’re not letting your, er,  _ affections _ for the general here get in the way of what you call business?”

Shao stepped forwards. “She did kick up quite a fuss when Mo hit him,” he offered.

Asami shrugged, trying to look unconcerned.  _ Just like a boardroom… just like a boardroom… don’t let them see. _ “How do you think I got the RCCC position?” she said. “You know how the world works, Viper. I’m pretty. He was single, and not exactly bad to look at, either. I think I had a sole-source for Future Industries inside of two weeks. I’ve lost a few nights and weekends, but you should see my new racing satomobile. It’s yellow. Maybe I’ll let you drive it sometime.”

Viper nodded slowly. “So you won’t mind if we kill him?”

Asami thought fast. “You can’t,” she said quickly.

Viper tilted his head, then smiled. It looked like the kind of smile an eagle hawk would give a spider rat. “That’s what I thought,” he said.

“No, I mean you can’t. Not if you want my mecha, or at least the stuff that’s ready to go. He has the other half of the passcodes.” She was just making things up at this point, and hoped like hell that she sounded convincing. “I can’t get into the warehouse without him, nor he without me. Extra security. The UF insisted.”

“And Mako?” said Viper, his face a question. “Surely we don’t need  _ him, _ though it’s still a waste of good talent.”

“He’s leverage,” Asami said. “I doubt General Iroh is going to tell you anything. As Shao and Mo here can tell you, he fought them tooth and nail until they threatened me instead of him.” She made a point of looking at Iroh, trying to seem disappointed. She couldn’t read the expression on his face anymore. Spirits, she hoped he was using the time to think of something. “I doubt that’s going to work now, but he and Mako are friends, too. Good friends. You won’t be able to beat passcodes out of Iroh, probably not ever, but I’ve been around him long enough to know what makes him tick. Do enough to his friend where he can watch and I think he’ll come around pretty quick.” Mako blanched. Of the three of them, he probably had the best idea of what the Triple Threats were capable of, and he clearly did not like Asami’s answer.

Viper said nothing for a full minute. “Suppose I decided to hear you out,” he said slowly. “These… smackers, you call them. We already have quite a few. What do I get from you that we don’t already have?”

This one was easy. “First, whoever is selling is getting a markup. I guarantee it. I can sell at cost. Call it a professional courtesy for letting me live. Second,”—here she was just guessing—“I’m pretty sure he only showed you the airbending ones. That’s a bit sad. I’ve got mecha that will turn anyone on your staff into a firebender. I won’t hold out on you, Viper. Like I said, it’s good for business. Besides, I’d very much like to live long enough to drive my yellow racing satomobile a few more times. It’s very fast, and I’ve only taken it out twice, you know.”

Viper nodded. “And in exchange?”

“For one, get these fucking things off me.” Asami wiggled her hands.

“Very funny. Try again, Miss Sato.” It had been worth a shot.

“All right, fine. In exchange, you don’t kill me. I take you to our warehouse, let the Triple Threats ‘steal’ about 300 fire and air smackers designated for the United Forces, and then at some point you pay me production costs. After that, if you need more, we can talk. Deal?”

Viper turned to Shao. “What do you think, Shao? Shall we believe her?”

“I don’t know,” said Shao. “I don’t think so.”

“Deal,” said Viper crisply. “I think it best to do the opposite of whatever Shao recommends, don’t you?”

Asami grinned. “No objections.”


	29. IROH

The “something else” turned out to be nylon. When Iroh had tested his bonds he’d felt a smoothness in the rope, and, with a little work, had been just able to touch the tips of his fingers to one cut end. He wasn’t able to untie it, not even close, but it let him know what he was dealing with, and that had made all the difference.

Nylon was a relatively new material, developed from the same kind of thermoplastic that Asami had said was used in some parts of Future Industries biplanes to make them lighter. He’d never have known that if he hadn’t been dating her, but materials science was one of Asami’s specialties and, though Iroh didn’t understand half of the actual science, he found it interesting and had paid attention. Nylon had turned out to be a pretty versatile material, and was now used for a variety of things that required strength and flexibility without adding weight. Such as rope. 

Like a lot of the new synthetic materials, nylon was flammable, and Iroh knew Asami had used it sparingly in Future Industries tech for that reason. It wasn’t necessarily that she worried about it catching fire though. Compared to natural materials like wood or cotton, it took quite a lot of heat to actually melt or burn nylon. However, at lower temperatures it softened and stretched, rather like taffy, and could deform over time if used in the wrong part of any mecha.

Iroh had started heating the nylon ropes as soon as he’d realized what they were. He couldn’t firebend without moving his arms, not really, but he didn’t need much movement at all to heat his hands in the kind of low-intensity way he used for making tea, cold nights, or, occasionally, sex. The technique was very difficult to master and not at all useful in combat, so it wasn’t a skill a lot of firebenders bothered to learn, which explained why the Triple Threats hadn’t thought twice about using the newer, stronger synthetic rope to tie up two powerful firebenders like him and Mako. But Iroh drank a lot of tea, and actually found the more delicate and concentration-based aspects of firebending to be the area of the art where he had the most natural talent. As he’d said to Asami when she’d first expressed doubts about her value as a non-bender, power isn’t everything.

Iroh hadn’t been altogether sure it would work when he’d started; he’d just been grateful that he had something to try at all. But by the time Asami had started arguing with Viper, he felt the slightest bit of give in the rope. He shifted his arms slightly and tried to get a little more heat, but it was hard, especially because he knew he was being watched. The waterbender who’d punched him in the stomach now stood to his left, facing Viper, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t notice if Iroh started moving his arms a lot. 

He tried his best to focus and ignore what Asami was saying. He knew she was stalling for time, and thought the whole thing was brilliant, but it still hurt. She’d never loved him, she’d only been using him to get money for Future Industries, he was interchangeable with Mako. Iroh may not be much of a liar, but Asami was fantastic. It was a little unsettling. And some of it, like the part about how he’d break a lot faster watching harm to others instead of being harmed himself, was frighteningly close to the truth. 

“No objections,” Asami told Viper, and smiled. “I can even take you by the warehouse tonight. I’d prefer not to have to sleep with my arms behind my back.”

“And I would prefer to not have to waste resources guarding three prisoners,” said Viper. “It gets dirty and expensive.” His face twisted in brief disgust, and Iroh marveled at the fact that the idea of paying overtime to keep him under guard bothered Viper more than the idea of killing him outright. He flexed his wrists again, slowly stretching at the ropes, trying as hard as he could not to move any part of his body that would be visible to the Triple Threats. 

Viper slapped both hands on the arms of his chair, then stood. “All right then,” he said, with all the concern of announcing a tea break in the middle of a meeting. His cold blue eyes found Iroh and Mako. “Sorry, fellas,” he said. “I can’t promise that I won’t kill you. But I can promise that if you behave I’ll make it quick and painless. You can thank the lady for that. General, I’ll even kill you first if that’s what you’d like. But if Miss Sato here can’t get into that warehouse”—Viper tilted his head in an approximation of a shrug—“you’ll find I’m not uncreative.”

Asami turned to face Iroh. Her face was hard. “General Iroh,” she said. He saw her shift her leg slightly towards the big kid, Mo, who was now standing beside her. “Before we get going, I need to know. Are you prepared to cooperate?” 

Iroh gave her a long look, searching her face, hoping against hope he was right about what she was asking. He felt the water whip gagging him slowly retreat.

“Yes.”


	30. ASAMI

Asami shifted her left leg slightly. She’d used Iroh as an excuse to turn so that the giant in the suit was next to her instead of behind. “Are you prepared to cooperate?” she asked. She saw Iroh tilt his head, almost imperceptibly, and felt something like hope. She had no doubt that it was meant for her. He must have come up with something after all, though she had no idea what.

“Yes,” Iroh said.

“Good,” said Asami. Spirits, she hoped she was right, or she was about to get them all killed. “Let’s go.” Then she spun to the left and flexed her foot sharply. The airbending shoe triggered and her leg rocketed upwards. Her knee connected directly with the big suit’s balls with bone-breaking force.

He screamed, doubling over. Hot pain lanced through her knee, but she used her momentum to shove him with her shoulder. The man toppled over, continuing to scream, both hands clutching between his legs. She tried to catch her balance but when her foot hit the ground the pain in her knee became a searing agony. Her leg buckled and she fell, landing hard on top of the still-screaming Mo. Pain flared in her back when Shao’s rock had hit her, but it was a distant annoyance compared to her leg. She ignored it. 

She heard a thump and a yell behind her and turned her head in time to see Iroh send a dazzling blue-white bolt of lightning at the waterbender next to Mako. He somehow had his knee on the neck of the man who’d been next to him, though she had no idea how he’d moved so quickly or gotten his hands free. Mako jerked backwards as the sizzling current passed six inches from his face. It hit the waterbender thug and knocked him back against the wall. The gangster screamed and clutched at his neck, then fell. Asami could smell burning hair and something else, something greasy that reminded her of street vendors at the night market. She’d seen Iroh do some scary things, but she’d never seen him intentionally try to kill another person before. Yet she had no doubt that’s what it was.

 _Asami!_ _Focus!_ She ignored the terrible smell and turned back to Mo. He had finally stopped screaming, but was still curled under her in a fetal position, whimpering in pain. It was clear he was out of the fight. She tried to push her own pain out of her mind, to concentrate. She would have to trust that Iroh and Mako would watch her back. Asami shifted and started going through the big man’s suit pockets and found nothing. No, they had to be here. She took a deep breath and forced herself to search again more slowly. Finally, deep in an inside pocket of his jacket, her fingers brushed against cold metal. 


	31. MAKO

Mako flinched backwards as a searing bolt of lightning whizzed past his face. _Holy shit,_ he thought. _Okay. I guess we’re doing this._

The room erupted into mayhem. The fire that missed Mako hit the Triple Threat waterbender next to him in the neck, throwing him backwards into the wall to his left. The man hit with a sickening thump and started yelling, but Mako was already moving. He had no idea how Iroh had gotten his hands free, but he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. He ducked and skittered to the right to where Iroh was, inexplicably, choking the other waterbender down on the floor with one knee. It seemed that once he’d gotten loose, Iroh had taken out two highly trained muscle men in about 3.5 seconds. For such a nice guy, sometimes he was a little scary. 

“Cut me loose, I,” Mako said and turned his back.

“It’ll hurt.” Iroh's voice came out a little slurred. Man, the big guy had really done a number on his face.

“Do it!” A moment passed, then he felt a searing pain in his wrists and palms. He gritted his teeth and tensed, trying not to flinch. Then suddenly, his hands were free. He pulled his arms forwards and saw his bonds had been melted straight through the middle so that he now wore two faintly smoking bracelets. Charred bits of what looked like plastic had dripped onto his skin, which was red and starting to blister. It hurt like hell, but at least he was loose. And it wasn’t like he’d never been burned before. Fire was an unforgiving mistress.

He didn’t waste any time. There might only be seven men in the room—three of whom Asami and Iroh had already disabled—but Mako knew Viper would have a lot more nearby. The big bastard had yelled loud enough to summon spirits when Asami had nailed him, too, so they would already be on the run. If they didn’t get out of here quickly, the three of them would be very, very dead. 

Mako did a quick survey of the room and almost bought it. At the last second he jerked right, and a rock the size of his head hit him in his shoulder instead of the hollow of his throat. He was knocked back a few feet, frantically pinwheeling his arms to keep his balance. Curses, he’d only stood still for a second, and he’d gotten what he deserved. Maybe he was getting old. 

Well, time to break out the old pro-bending skills then. Besides, Mako had been scrapping with Bolin since he was four and had about as much practice as one could get by his age. If there was one thing that he knew how to do, it was fight earthbenders. He recovered his balance and ducked instinctively as another rock flew over his head, then pushed fire out of his hands in the direction that the rocks had come from. One thing about earthbenders, they were pretty solid. Airbenders, firebenders, and waterbenders were all fluid movement, and half the battle was just hitting them at all. With earthbenders, it was often just a battle of strength. 

He looked up and saw he’d guessed right. The little asshole who’d double-crossed them, Shao, was slapping furiously at his thigh, attempting to put out the flames. But he’d miscalculated. Another rock, this one almost two feet across, sped towards him from near where Viper had been. Mako dove to the left, just barely avoiding it. _Shit._ The bodyguards. He wasn’t just fighting one earthbender, he was fighting two. 

He heard a yell to his right and glanced to see Iroh engaged with Viper and the other bodyguard, this one a firebender. Of course Viper would have picked guards that filled out the triad. Iroh seemed to be standing in front of Asami now, who was still on the ground next to the big kid in the suit, for some reason rifling through his pockets. The other waterbender appeared to be unconscious on the ground next to them. 

Steam hissed as Iroh’s fire blocked a swipe of Viper’s water whip. Mako liked Iroh, for the most part, but sometimes he didn’t understand him at all. Watching Iroh fight was a little like watching someone dance. It was weird. He got the job done, no one could argue with that, and when he really got going the power that came out of that guy was staggering, but still. The whole process of getting there seemed a little overdone. 

But more than that, it was dispassionate. To watch Iroh firebend was like watching a man with a hammer. It was a tool to him, nothing more. But Mako _loved_ firebending. He loved the feel of it, the sense of control over something infinitely more powerful than himself, and yet part of him. He’d heard once that the center of firebending was the stomach, but he’d never believed it. Firebending was all heart, hot blood made flame to light the darkness. He’d sometimes wondered if that was one reason he had trouble with relationships. Iroh looked at Asami as if she’d bottled his soul, and Mako just… couldn’t. Fire was his first love. Maybe he simply didn’t have enough left to go around.

He set his feet and turned back to the earthbenders. He wasn’t a moment too soon. The ground shifted under him and buckled, nearly spilling him into the man-sized hole that had opened up in front of him. He saw that Shao had managed to put his leg out. The bodyguard, a tall and muscular man with pale skin and a black ponytail, hurled another huge chunk of the floor at him. He dodged it easily, then crouched and sent two bursts of fire, one at each of the gangsters. He couldn’t fight two on one for long though, let alone more once Viper’s other men arrived. They had to get out of here.

“Iroh!” he yelled, not taking his eye off the earthbenders as they circled, looking for an opening. “More on the way, we have to get out!” 

“Closer! Need some help here!” Mako turned his head. Something hard slammed into his side and he lost his footing. He tripped on the lip of the hole and fell hard. Blinding pain shot up his left arm. He’d only taken his eyes off the earthbenders for a second, but they’d used it. 

_Fuck._


	32. IROH

There was a time to pull his punches. This wasn’t it. Iroh took a deep breath and focused, concentrating on the tension inside him. Then he moved his arms in a sweeping motion, pointed one hand, and released. He felt the back of his too-tight suit vest rip. The energies inside him snapped back together and exploded, sending a bolt of white-hot lightning from his extended fingers. 

The lightning sizzled against Viper’s water whip. He’d been coming in high, trying to force Iroh to move into the path of the firebender guard next to him. 

Iroh ducked and jagged the other way, just on principle. Shooting lightning out of your hands had a way of making you the obvious center of attention, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near where he’d just been standing. He also wanted to draw fire away from Asami. She was still on the ground, and seemed to be looking for something. Iroh hadn’t been able to get a good enough look at her to know if she was hurt as well, but he thought she might be based on the fact that she was still on her side. Whatever she was doing, he wasn’t going to let anything get past him. 

He ventured a glance at Mako. He liked Mako, mostly, but sometimes he didn’t understand him at all. Watching Mako fight was a little like watching one of his little sister’s wind-up dolls. His whole body jerked as he moved. It was weird. He was clearly a powerful bender, but there was no grace to it. Unlike Iroh, Mako was largely self-taught, and where he wasn’t his mentors had been either gangsters or pro-benders. In practice, this meant that he could do a few things exceptionally well, but didn’t have the same kind of range and concentration as Iroh did. His bending was passionate and all-encompassing, with none of the proper focus and detachment. It was like with each blast of fire he was flinging a piece of his heart. Iroh thought it looked exhausting, not to mention inefficient. That’s not what hearts were for.

His head snapped back just as a blast of fire shot towards him. He instinctively raised his hands and caught it, pushing the flames with some of his own to then redirect it across the room. He’d gotten a lot better at pushing with fire lately. The now larger fireball rocketed towards Viper, who had come in with another swipe of his water whip. The fire hissed against the water, cutting it off in the middle and turning it to steam. As it did, Iroh noticed that he’d scraped most of the skin off the back of his hands, probably when he’d jerked himself out of the loosened ropes. He’d been so amped up at the time that he hadn’t even felt it, but as soon as he saw them they began to throb.

“Iroh! More on the way, we have to get out!” Mako had either seen something, or knew enough about the Triple Threats to understand their tactics. But Asami still hadn’t gotten up, and there was no way Iroh could hold off both Viper and the firebender and see that she was all right. 

“Closer!” he yelled. “Need some help here!” Iroh heard Mako yelp, then curse, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted. It didn’t sound good though. If Mako was busy, or down, Iroh needed to stop the two-on-one dynamic fast. 

He didn’t use lightning bending often. It tired him out quickly, and was especially difficult to work safely at close range. He was already feeling the toll his earlier strikes had taken. But desperate times called for desperate chances, and if he didn’t change the fight quickly there would be nothing to save his stamina for. He focused again, stretching the energies inside him, and whirled his arms. The bodyguard saw what he was doing and shifted sharply to the right, preparing to counter. But Iroh had been classically trained by firebending masters from the time he was four, and had about as much training in the art as one could get by his age. If there was one thing that he knew how to do, it was fight firebenders. Iroh had anticipated the move, and his bolt of lightning hit the other man square in the stomach. He flew backwards and hit the wall behind the red throne, then collapsed in a heap, pulling down the tapestry that had been hanging behind him. He didn’t move. 

Iroh ducked Viper’s next strike. The other man looked tired, but even more so he looked furious. And perhaps, under the fury, a little scared. Iroh took a quick step back and almost bumped into Asami. “Spread your legs,” she hissed. He quickly shifted his feet and a gout of fire shot out from between them. That… was uncomfortable to think about. The blast missed Viper, but caused the other man to dodge, momentarily interrupting his attack. 

“You okay?” Iroh asked. 

“Can’t walk,” she said. Her voice was tight, as if it cost her effort. “Found my mecha though. Watch this.” 

Iroh quickly stepped aside as Mako appeared next to him. He was holding one arm awkwardly. “Time to go, I,” he said. Suddenly fire exploded to Iroh’s right. He looked down to see Asami holding her foot in one hand, flexed, rather like how he sometimes stretched after a run. She’d lined up the fire smacker on her hand with the four air smackers on her shoe, and was using them both together. The flame, fueled by the strong air current, must have been ten feet long. He saw Viper and Shao each dive opposite directions to avoid the blast. 

“Asami what the fuck?” said Mako.

“Good enough for me,” Iroh said. He knelt next to her. “This might hurt. I’m sorry. Try to keep doing that. I can’t bend if I carry you.” Then he picked her up. He felt her stiffen a little, but she didn’t let go of her foot. Iroh did his best to be gentle, but he’d already smelled the burning. Someone—or multiple someones—had caught one or more of the hanging tapestries on fire. A warehouse full of drywall tunnels wouldn’t last long. The priority was getting out fast.

“Mako, I’m going back-to, and Asami will keep them off us, but I need you to go first.”

“Got it.” Mako disappeared behind him. “Clear,” he said a moment later. “Follow me.”

***

Iroh sat on the curb two blocks from what had once been the headquarters of the Triple Threat Triad. It burned with merry unconcern as Republic City’s finest tried in vain to put out the blaze. He held an ice pack to his cheek and simply watched it. It was actually rather pretty. 

Asami sat stiffly next to him, one leg stretched out in front of her. Waterbenders were supposedly on their way, but in the meantime the fire crew had done the best they could for them. She also had an ice pack, and was balancing it carefully on her left knee. On her other side sat Mako, his left arm tucked close to his chest like a broken wing. He looked sullen and upset; the fire crews had insisted that he sit down and stay away from the building, despite his telling them several times that he was with the police. 

“Well that didn’t go as planned,” Mako said after a while.

“No,” answered Iroh. It hurt to talk. 

“No,” said Asami. There was a crash as the roof of the warehouse collapsed.

“Asami,” said Mako. He glanced quickly at Iroh to see his reaction. Iroh said nothing. “Why did you come tonight? I told you not to. So did Iroh. And what’s more, you agreed.”

“I’m sorry,” Asami said. She bit her lip. It sounded like talking hurt her almost as much as it hurt Iroh. “I thought I could help. I thought I could handle myself. And… and I wanted to know. For sure.”

“Asami,” Iroh said. “I know you can handle yourself. It was never about that. But you were nearly killed. You nearly got Mako and I killed as well.” He looked at his feet. This was the hard part. “And… and you made me kill, too. I’m almost certain of it. I have men’s lives on my conscience because you didn’t trust me, and now I have to live with that. With both those things.”

They sat silent for a while. Then Asami said, “I’m shutting the program down. The smackers, they’re too dangerous.”

“But Asami…” The deal between the United Forces and Future Industries for the smacker mecha was worth thousands of yuan.

“Iroh, when you first offered me the liaison job, you know what I was most excited about? Not making weapons. Yet here I am. You’re not the only one that has things on their conscience.”

“There’s going to be an inquiry,” said Mako. “I can’t stop it now.”

“I know,” Asami said. “And it won’t just be me and Future Industries, either. I’m sorry. I’ll have to live with that, too.”

No one had anything to say to that. Instead they sat in the flickering darkness, listening to the distant sound of approaching sirens, and watched the building burn to the ground.


	33. IROH

All of their injuries had been more serious than he’d anticipated. Mako had fractured his left arm in two places. Asami had broken three ribs where Shao had hit her with the rock, and the smacker-powered kick to Mo had dislocated part of her left knee. Waterbending had repaired the immediate damage and made it so that she could walk, but it would be a number of weeks before she'd fully recover, especially her ribs. While waterbending could do wonders with skin and tissue damage, there was unfortunately little it could do for breaks.

As for himself, the blow to his face had indeed broken his cheekbone, though thankfully not badly enough to result in a permanent deformity. But his healer Master Yue had said there might be nerve damage, which would explain the numb patches that still lingered on his face. They would probably fade in time, but there was no guarantee. There had also been enough internal bleeding to put pressure on his eye, which, if it had gone untreated, might have eventually blinded him. As it was, he’d had to see a waterbending healer twice a day for a week to keep the swelling down, then once every few days after that. He’d also had Korra look at it—while she’d never have Katara’s skill and patience for healing, Iroh somehow felt better having someone who’d trained under her involved. But otherwise, like Asami, there wasn’t much he could do. One could no more splint a cheekbone than a rib. He’d been told to rest, avoid strenuous activities, sleep a lot, and under no circumstances get hit in the face again. Iroh, active by nature and used to working out nearly every day, found it stifling.

When it came to he and Asami being together they had managed, but only just. Not being able to kiss her, to use his mouth at all, was maddening and a little strange. Iroh also had to be unusually careful with his body. He was a lot heavier than she was, but Asami had always been strong and seemed to like it when he threw his weight around a little. He wasn’t used to treating her like she was made of glass. With some experimentation he found that he could hold her almost perfectly still, using just his own strength and gravity to satisfy both of them, but it wasn’t the same. Luckily skin was one of the easiest things for waterbending to heal, and at least his hands had been fine in a matter of days. There was quite a lot that one could do with hands. Asami for her part shied away from his face, but drove him nearly insane kissing everything else. It was both frustrating and shockingly intimate. Yet while it was no substitute for what they’d been used to, Iroh was far from completely disappointed. On the contrary, there were a few things he’d discovered that he liked quite a bit. 

Still, after three weeks, he couldn’t shake the feeling of pent up energy. The bruises on his face and torso had almost entirely faded, and he was restless. And with the inquiry at the RCCC looming, he'd found himself increasingly agitated. Which was why he was on the floor of his apartment on a warm Saturday afternoon doing pushups. Iroh had barely started and he was already sweating. He tended to get hot anyway, but he was clearly out of practice. 

“Really?” said a voice behind him. Iroh stopped at the top, then looked to see Asami, tea in hand, smiling at him from the kitchen. She was wearing shorts and a soft purple tank top, and looked very comfortable. “What if you slip and fall on your face, Iroh? I’ll have to date General Dented.”

“I’m fine,” he panted. Spirits, he was out of shape. “It’s been weeks, and I’m going crazy.”

Asami walked over, then put her tea on the table. He saw that she was moving a lot better, and seemed less stiff. “Here,” she said, easing herself down. “If you must do that, let me help.” Then she carefully laid down next to him on the soft gray throw rug, facing up. “There,” she said, turning to look at him. “Just do push ups over me. Then you’ll be extra careful. And I can pretend I’m exercising, too.”

“What? No way. What if I land on you by accident?”

“I mean,” Asami shrugged, “if you don’t think you can do it…”

Iroh shifted over until Asami was directly below him, trying to push his hair out of his face as he went. The last thing he wanted to do was drip sweat all over her. Then he slowly lowered himself, careful to keep his body absolutely straight. It was like the drills he’d done when he’d first joined the Forces, where anything less than perfect form landed you a bonus ten. When he got close enough, about a half inch above her body, he stopped. Her green eyes were huge in her smiling face. If he’d wanted, Iroh could have counted every one of the light freckles across her nose and cheeks. He pushed himself up. “One,” he breathed.

“See?” said Asami, and grinned. “Nice and easy, and no one gets hurt.”

Iroh lowered himself down again. He kissed her softly. It was the first time he’d kissed Asami in weeks, in eternities, and it felt incredible. He could taste her tea. Then he pushed up. “Two,” he whispered. She didn’t move, and her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He lowered himself down again. Another kiss, a little longer this time. Lift. “Three.” Down. She bit his lower lip slightly. Up. “Four.”

There was a knock at the door. Iroh ignored it. Kissing still hurt a little, but spirits he didn’t care anymore, he could take it, he could take anything if it meant he could just—

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Iroh groaned, then pushed himself up on his knees. Asami looked at him inquiringly, her lips slightly parted. For a split second Iroh almost stayed, then the knock sounded a third time. He grimaced. “Hold that thought,” he said, standing. Asami propped herself up on one elbow. “Please. Don’t move.” Then he stalked to the door, undid the lock, and yanked it open. “ _What?”_ he growled. 

Bolin had his hand up, presumably ready to knock a fourth time. Behind him, Korra and Mako each carried a pizza box. “Uh,” Bolin said, looking flustered. “Hey, Iroh. Bad time?”

Korra looked him up and down, taking in his disheveled appearance, then laughed. “I thought you two were supposed to take it easy?” Iroh felt his face turning red. He reached up to flatten his hair and realized he was still sweating. 

“Just a few push ups,” he said, and shuffled his feet a little, trying to focus on the sensation of the cold tile on his skin and ignore other parts of his body. “What are you all doing here?”

“Not all of us can do push ups,” said Mako. Iroh saw that his arm was still in the sling. “And we’ve lost more than half the smackball players to injuries, so Bolin and Korra wanted to throw a get-well party instead.” Mako shrugged. “I’m not working tonight, and I wasn’t going to say no to free pizza.” Technically, he'd been suspended. Apparently, this was Mako's idea of a joke.

“Come on in!” called Asami from somewhere behind him. He turned to see that she’d put her hair up and thrown on a sweater. _Damn. Damn damn damn._

Iroh stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Come in,” he said, “great to see you guys.” He almost meant it, too. Almost.

Iroh came out into the living room a few minutes later, having taken a moment to wash his face and change into pants and a clean t-shirt. Korra sat on the couch, Bolin on one side and Mako on the other. Asami was at the table, the pizzas open on the coffee table between them. Their friends’ timing might be terrible, but at least they’d gotten the order right. Iroh grabbed a piece of cheese pizza and a chair, then turned it around backwards and sat facing the couch. The good thing about cheese pizza was that you couldn’t use toppings to cover up poor quality. It was the perfect indicator. It was either good, or it wasn’t. Unlike whatever Asami was eating, which looked like someone had dragged her slice through the night market at random to see what would stick. 

“You’re looking better,” said Korra, through a mouthful of spirits knew what. “I can almost tell that you have a face now, Fireball. Not that that helps you.” She looked at Asami. “I guess you’re still keeping him, though?” Asami laughed and nodded, her mouth too full of pizza to reply.

“Er. Thanks?” Iroh said, unclear exactly who he was answering. Instead he took a bite of his own pizza. It was good, but chewing still hurt a bit. 

Bolin, who was eating a much more normal piece of pizza than either Korra or Asami, leaned forwards and picked up Iroh’s book from the coffee table. “ _Desert Lions: Fables and Legends of the Southern Earth Kingdom,_ ” he read. “Really, Iroh? And I know it’s Iroh’s book because it doesn’t have ‘ways to electrocute you’ in the title. But it sounds like it’s for kids.”

“I’ve gotten interested in the region,” Iroh said. “It’s actually quite a bit different from the rest of the Earth Kingdom. And we’re starting to have some trouble down there, too. I thought that I’d better start paying attention.”

“With stories?” said Mako. He looked skeptical. “How would that help?”

“You can learn a lot from stories,” Iroh said. “They tell you what a culture values. If you pay attention, they can tell you about its political structure, or even how and which people make decisions. If you wind up facing an enemy, knowing things like that can make all the difference, or even help you avoid a fight entirely.”

Bolin frowned, then looked down at the book. “How would you get anything like that from this?”

Iroh looked around, saw no one had bothered with plates, and set his pizza on his knee. He reached out and took the book from Bolin, then flipped to a part about halfway through. “I’ll show you,” he said, and picked up his new reading glasses from where they’d been sitting next to the book. He'd lost the others somewhere in the warehouse fight.

“You wear glasses, Iroh?” Bolin said. “Since when?”

Iroh sighed, put his glasses on, then started to read:

_The Desert Lion and the Golden Badgermole_

_The Desert Lion was walking home one day when he stepped upon a trap. It had been hidden carefully in the sand, and he did not see it. It closed painfully on his paw, the teeth digging deep into his flesh. The Desert Lion was the master of the sands, and very little could hold him, but the trap was of good clean copper, and strong, and chained to a stake that ran deep to the steady rock below the shifting sands. He pulled and pulled, but try as he might, the Desert Lion could not free himself._

_After a long while, the Desert Lion saw movement in the sand. “Help!” he called. “I am trapped, and I cannot free myself. I offer a reward to any who will help me do so.” The movement stopped. Then a Golden Badgermole poked her head out of the sand._

_“Hello, great Desert Lion,” said the Golden Badgermole. “What seems to be the trouble?”_

_“Oh thank the spirits, Golden Badgermole,” said the Lion. “My paw is trapped. But you are strong, and used to hard work. If you free me, I will offer you a rich reward.”_

_“I am indeed,” said the Badgermole. “As are all my kin. I have no doubt that I could release you. Yet Desert Lions eat Golden Badgermoles, so what reward could you possibly offer me?”_

_“Desert Lions must eat Golden Badgermoles,” said the Lion. “But I would spare your life, forever, and give you riches in copper and spices besides.”_

_“And my kin?”_

_“Desert Lions must eat Badgermoles to live. It is the natural order of things. It is how we grow fat and healthy. But you, yourself, would be spared, and live in luxury.”_

_“You say it is the natural order of things," said the Badgermole. "And yet you offer me my life, and wealth besides?"_

_"I do. In exchange for your service, I will make an exception. But I cannot change the way that nature made Lions or Badgermoles."_

_"Then did you not stop to wonder," said the Badgermole, "who set the trap?”_

_And the Golden Badgermole left._

Iroh closed the book. “See?” he said.

Everyone looked blank. 

“Iroh,” said Korra, “has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?” Asami snorted, then tried to turn it into a cough. She politely took another bite of pizza.

“Yes,” said Iroh. He took off his glasses and folded them neatly. “I hear that a lot, actually.” 

“Good thing Asami is a nerd, too,” Bolin said, nodding towards the table. “Whenever I think of you two alone up here, I imagine you doing something fun but insanely competitive, and by the end of it Iroh’s created his own language and Asami has whipped up a batch of instant black hole paste in the kitchen or something.” Iroh glanced sideways at Asami, and she grinned. In some ways, it wasn’t all that far from the truth. 

“Bolin, that’s so sweet that’s what you think they do when they’re alone,” Korra smirked, leaning across Mako to grab another slice of pizza. Mako rolled his eyes. Bolin blushed. So did Iroh. 

“Anyway,” Bolin said, changing the subject, “what did you get out of a story about a badgermole being mean?”

“Quite a lot,” said Iroh, grateful for the shift. “For one, you learn about the terrain. Dry, sandy, but with bedrock not too far down, likely containing copper deposits. All of which I’ve confirmed, by the way. You learn a little about the animals, which matters less, but also that the region is sparsely populated—note that only a single animal comes along, and it’s inferred that once the badgermole leaves no other follows. Then there’s some of the social structure. The idea of respect and obligation to authority, as the lion expects the badgermole to help it, but then also a bit of collectivism and a value of fairness, as the badgermole will not help unless all badgermoles can benefit. Finally, you can tell that at least some of the working class are metalbenders, as the badgermoles made the trap, and that perhaps the ruling class are not, as the lion was unable to free itself without them.”

Bolin blinked at him. “You got… all that… from _that?_ ” 

Iroh smiled and picked up his pizza. “And I didn’t even have to make up a language.”


	34. ASAMI

The inquiry was held at RCCC headquarters at City Hall in the same room where Asami had had her first meeting. This time, she did not sit at the head of the table. Instead, the spots usually occupied by her and Iroh were taken up by Shuren Aan, a bald, wrinkled man who happened to be the most senior judge in the judicial arm of the United Forces, and Republic City Police Chief Lin Beifong. Iroh had explained that, while it was still informal at this stage, because of his involvement the preliminary inquiry required the presence of both military and civilian authorities. He also thought the fact that it was Lin Beifong and not a Republic City judge was probably a good sign—it meant that they were planning on actually investigating, and she and Aan both had a reputation for being tough but fair.

Iroh sat next to her in full dress, facing Judge Aan and Chief Beifong. Though his face had largely healed, he still looked exhausted. In the nights following the warehouse fire he’d hardly slept at all. At first she thought it was the pain, or perhaps the change in sleeping arrangements. They’d spent the first few evenings apart, mostly at her insistence. They weren’t fighting, exactly, but she couldn’t stand the idea of Iroh doting on her. She hurt, and she wanted to hurt. Though Iroh had never brought it up again, the police report Mako had shared showed that nine bodies had been recovered from the fire, which meant that not only had some of their assailants likely died, at least several others had as well. The Triple Threats were scum, but still. Mako and Bolin had been Triple Threats, after all, and what had those other men and women ever done to her? Asami knew, intellectually, that it wasn’t her fault. They had attacked her. But still. If she hadn’t decided to follow Mako, he and Iroh could probably have fought their way out of the back room easily. Their injuries, and the Triple Threats’ blood, was on her hands.

After she’d finally relented—Iroh had tried to give her space, but had looked so miserable, and she’d missed him just as much—it had gotten a little better. The long road to healing had been frustrating, but she had to admit being together had done them both good, physically and mentally. The rest of Team Avatar had dropped by a few times, too, which had helped break up a lot of sedentary time indoors. But in the days leading up to the launch of the investigation Iroh had stopped sleeping again. She would wake up in the middle of the night to find him tossing and turning, or his side of the bed empty entirely. He wouldn’t talk about it, and insisted he was fine, but she suspected he was having nightmares. While Asami herself was sleeping fine, or even too much, she’d found that she could no longer stomach meat. Every time she got close to it she smelled the burned, greasy scent of the waterbender Iroh had hit in the neck.

As she looked around the room Asami felt some hope. Now that the inquiry had finally begun, perhaps the sense of dread that had been hanging over them both would start to lessen. Ostensibly the purpose was just to take initial statements from herself and Iroh, Mako, and any other witnesses either of the presiding members felt were relevant. She had brought two of her staff from Future Industries, her warehouse manager and the head of her legal team. Lt. Iameh sat in her chair in her usual place against the wall. Mako, still suspended from duty but with his arm finally out of the sling, sat stiffly next to her. Korra had tried to come as well, claiming that as the Avatar she had a role to play, but she’d been denied. According to Mako, she was not taking it well.

In addition to Judge Aan, Chief Beifong, and those giving statements, the room contained a smattering of representatives from relevant departments across city government, the RCCC, and the United Forces. Commander Bumi was with his half of the fleet near the North Pole, but Commander Cuzon, fresh back from his deployment in the south, stood in for United Forces fleet command. Asami thought he looked entirely too pleased to be here. She still had no idea why he hated her and Iroh so much, and as far as she knew Iroh didn’t, either. But his dislike was clear, and as the meeting proceeded, things only got worse. 

“What I fail to understand,” Cuzon said, addressing the room, “is how General Iroh didn’t catch this sooner. The R-triple-C is his command. Asami Sato is his lover. It seems clear now that weapons purchased by the United Forces went missing on his watch, weapons designed and manufactured by Miss Sato’s company. And from the statement he gave this morning, he knew the triads had acquired the mecha but didn’t report it. It seems highly unlikely that he wasn’t involved.”

“That’s not true,” said Asami. Her voice came out louder than she’d planned. She was trying as hard as she could to maintain the cold confidence she brought to confrontations like this, but it was hard. “General Iroh had nothing to do with this. The only reason he didn’t report the concern was because there was no real evidence. Which he already told you.”

“Asami, please,” Iroh said next to her, putting a hand on her arm. 

Cuzon glared at her, his pouty lips pressed into a line. “If he’s innocent, Miss Sato,” he said, “then he’s an idiot. Not only did you keep developing Equalist-style weapons mecha after the rebellion nearly sank his fleet, you sold it to both the United Forces and Republic City’s largest street gang right under his nose. I’d say like father like daughter, but spirits, at least Hiroshi had morals.”

Iroh jumped up, his face black with anger. “Sit _down,_ General,” snapped Aan. He turned to Cuzon. “Commander, stick to the facts. Any more comments like that and I’m inclined to sit back and let Iroh beat you senseless.” Iroh sat, but Asami saw smoke curling faintly from his fingers. She wondered if anyone else knew how close he’d he’d come to throwing fire in a meeting. 

“No,” Asami said firmly. She reached for Iroh’s hand under the table and twined her fingers in his. Losing his temper with Cuzon again would solve nothing. “I swear that I’ve honored the contract. What’s more, Future Industries would never sell to the Triple Threat Triad, or any similar group. There are a dozen ways they could have wound up with our mecha. This is, after all, a group of thieves.”

“Regardless,” said Chief Beifong, “at least one triad does have these weapons, correct?”

“Yes,” said Iroh. “When Miss Sato, Detective Mako and I approached them, they said that we were the second group to do so, and indicated that they had a number of the devices already.” Chief Beifong frowned, but nodded. Mako had already said as much as well.

Asami took a deep breath. “I’ve discontinued the line,” she said finally. “Whatever you find in terms of fault, know that Future Industries will no longer be manufacturing light handheld mecha. Existing product will be safely disposed of.”

“Leaving the RCCC defenseless against the triads,” said Commander Cuzon. He sat back and crossed his arms. 

Asami started. _What?_ “No, that’s not the intent at all. They only have a few, and none of the fire devices. For all we know, they were all destroyed when the building burned down.”

Cuzon shook his head. His pale eyes glittered. “Yet all we have is your word.” He saw Judge Aan open his mouth and seemed to change tacks. “But, assuming you’re _not_ involved, up until three weeks ago you didn’t even know that much. The truth is, we have no idea how many of these things are in circulation.” He looked at the room. “What if the triads weren’t the only group Future Industries sold to?”

“We didn’t sell—”

“After all,” Cuzon continued, speaking over her, “Hiroshi Sato was arming the Equalist movement for as much as a year before the Avatar happened to overhear a key conversation. The truth is, we have no idea what Miss Sato has been up to—”

“ _Cuzon!”_ Iroh was nearly shouting again.

“That’s enough!” Judge Aan banged his fist on the table.

“—and we need to arm ourselves accordingly,” the commander finished. He held up both his hands, trying to quiet the room. “Wait, wait,” he said loudly. “I apologize, please. Hear me out. Even if everyone here today is innocent of any wrongdoing, this would be true. We are only beginning the inquiry. We have no idea what items are missing, how many, or to whom they have gone.” He turned to Asami. “I appreciate your efforts to shut down the light mecha line. But I’m afraid that’s closing the door after the ostrich horse has left the barn. The truth is, Miss Sato, that your mecha can turn anyone into a basic bender. We must be prepared to fight fire with fire. Tomorrow, I’m submitting a plan to arm every non-bending member of the United Forces with your devices.”

Asami just stared at him. The entire fleet? 

“That’s not your decision, Commander,” said Iroh. “Miss Sato said she’s destroying the devices, and I support her. You may command half the fleet, but last I checked I'm still in command of the United Forces.”

“No, General Iroh,” said a clear voice behind them. Asami turned to see President Raiko standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard him come in. “ _I_ am in command of the United Forces. And I agree with Commander Cuzon. The risk is too great. We must defend ourselves.”

Asami swallowed. “With all due respect, Mr. President,” she said, “it’s actually my decision. There is no law that says I have to sell. At worst, I’m in breach of contract.”

Raiko’s face hardened. “Miss Sato,” he said, “after what your father did to both the Forces and the Republic, I would have hoped you’d be more supportive. However, if patriotism alone won’t sway you, consider this. I can’t make Future Industries sell, but I can make damned sure we don’t buy. You will help us equip our defenses, or you’ll lose every single public contract. I had my secretary check, and with all the construction in the city I believe that’s three-quarters of your business these days. You will help us, or you won’t sell so much as a nail to the United Forces, nor the Republic, ever again.”


	35. IAMEH

“You’re going to want to read the top two right away,” Iameh said, handing General Iroh a stack of papers. She hadn’t been sure which order to give them to him in. She wasn’t often unsure in her job, and the feeling made her uncomfortable. Normally, Iameh ascribed to the notion that bad news was best gotten over with. But the urgent telegram from the Fire Nation wasn’t necessarily good news. It could be from Iroh’s family. It could be anything. At the last minute she’d decided to put that on top. Whatever it said, at least it was short, and she thought that he should get it over with. The report underneath on the situation in the southern Earth Kingdom was long, bad, and required thinking about.

“Thank you,” Iroh said, and grabbed for the stack without looking up. She was starting to worry about him a little bit. While his injuries, and Miss Sato’s as well, had all but healed, he hadn’t been the same since he’d come back to work. Usually clear, concise, and efficient, she’d found him distracted. He missed things. Iroh never missed things. 

Iameh knew the inquiry weighed heavy on him. The press had got wind of it, and the idea that the gallant head of the RCCC and Hiroshi Sato’s heir were somehow mixed up with the bending triads was simply too delicious to let alone. No one who knew Iroh believed it, of course, but still. More than that, so far no one had managed to figure out how it _had_ happened, who was behind it, or even what had been stolen. All of the Future Industries products had been accounted for.

Iroh continued to hold the stack of papers in one hand. He seemed to have forgotten about them. Instead he was looking out the door of his office, a faint frown on his face. 

“General,” said Iameh. “A telegram, SWE sitrep, and your daily briefings, sir.” Iroh started, then looked at his hand.

“Right,” he said, then sat down behind his desk. He tore open the private telegram and scanned it quickly. Then he broke into a broad smile. It was the first real smile Iameh had seen on him in weeks, and it lit up his whole face. She was suddenly glad that she’d decided to put the telegram on top.

“Look at this!” Iroh jumped up and reached over the desk to hand the telegram down to her.

“It’s marked private, sir,” she said.

“No, no, it’s fine, read it!” he said, excited. Iameh took the single sheet of paper and read:

ATTN G. IROH RCCC URGENT RECEIVED VIA FIRE NATION PVT

BIG NEWS LTL PKG. READY TO BE UNCLE IROH II?? DEC 22. UR STILL A DORK. LV KAZ&I

Iameh looked up. “Sir?”

Iroh was positively beaming. “My brother, Iameh. He and his fiancee are expecting.” He chuckled. “I guess they got a little ahead of themselves. But it looks like I’m being bumped to fourth in line in December.” He shook his head, taking the telegram back from her. “The wedding is in September. Kazai never did have any patience though.” 

Iameh smiled. A Fire Nation royal wedding and a new prince or princess to boot. It would be quite a festive fall back home. She was glad Iroh was pleased. He’d never appeared to have any interest in being Firelord, and being moved one rung further from that responsibility only seemed to make him relax.

“It’s wonderful news about the Crown Prince, sir. Congratulations.”

The general glanced at the telegram again, then chuckled. “Uncle Iroh,” he said, almost to himself. “I like the sound of that.” He looked up at Iameh again. “Firelord Zuko had an Uncle Iroh, too, you know. I never heard him speak of anyone with more respect. I hope I measure up. I’ve never, er, ‘uncled’ anyone before.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great, sir.” Iameh had four nieces and a nephew, and knew it was mostly about spoiling. The first time General Iroh had met her own boys, then just six and four, his pockets had for some reason been full of candy. Iroh was tall, and his pockets were just little boy height. He would be fine.

He jumped up again and started for his office door. “Do I have anything now?” Iroh asked as he put his hand on the knob. “I want to go tell Asami.”

“Not for an hour, but the report from SWE…”

“Can wait,” Iroh said firmly, and jogged out into the hallway. 

Iameh looked at the empty doorway. Maybe Iroh deserved a few minutes of happiness. She glanced back at the unread situation report on his desk. It was from the small part of the fleet that Commander Cuzon had left stationed off the southeast coast of the continent. A place so poor and remote it barely had a name. It was simply called Southwest Earth Kingdom, or SWE. It wasn't even technically in the west, the name having instead been taken from the Air Nomads who had once inhabited the Eastern Air Temple and for whom all land was west. Iameh had no idea why anyone would want to fight over such a desperate patch of desert, but apparently, someone did. What had started as a strike at a copper mine near the coast had slowly escalated over the past three months, and now seemed at the brink of full-scale rebellion. 

Iameh had spent 16 years in the Forces. She was no general, and had never wanted to be, but she knew how to read between the lines. And unless she was very much mistaken, if the Avatar or the United Forces didn't intervene, the Earth Kingdom would soon be at war.


	36. ASAMI

Pema met Asami as she left the ferry to Air Temple island. She was wearing her usual red and yellow robes despite the heat, and carried a small wicker basket and a blanket under one arm. Instead of walking up the hill though, Pema led her along the beach. They walked for about fifteen minutes, chatting about nothing, just catching up. Asami realized that, with smackball on hiatus, the inquiry at RCCC picking up steam, and the fact that Future Industries might be staring bankruptcy in the face, it had been a long time since she had visited the island. 

Pema stopped on a grassy spit of land jutting out into Yue Bay. There was no beach here, just a short rocky cliff and a few small trees for shade, but the view of Republic City was nice, and Asami suspected that it was far enough away from the house and other buildings to afford them some privacy. 

“So how are things with Iroh?” Pema asked, spreading out the blanket. They sat, the basket of lunch between them. Asami put a bag of chips on top, feeling a little guilty. Iroh usually cooked; Asami’s specialty was dishes.

“Iroh?” she said. “He’s fine.” In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure of that. His nightmares seemed to have subsided, but between the ongoing inquiry and the recent reports of violence in the south, he was under a lot of pressure. But Iroh was rather private, and she knew he wouldn’t want her saying all that to Pema.

Pema cocked her head, her bright green eyes curious. “Oh. I’d assumed that’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” Asami looked at her, confused. “What gave you that idea?”

The older woman smiled. “Well that’s a nice change,” she said, and pulled a thermos out of the basket. “Tea?”

Asami nodded, then took a cup of lukewarm tea from Pema. “A change?” she asked.

Pema laughed a little, her eyes wrinkling. “It seems like all anyone ever asks me for is relationship advice,” she said over her teacup. “You young people, especially. I’m thrilled that Tenzin and I can be a model, but still, it gets exhausting. I can’t pretend I have all the answers, and I think things were simpler when I was younger.”

Asami smiled a little. She remembered Katara saying something similar to her once about her and Avatar Aang. It was also funny to hear Pema talk about “young people.” Though she was in her mid-30s, she often seemed younger, especially when she laughed. “So, who’s asked you for relationship advice?” Asami said, curious.

Pema rubbed her forehead. “Spirits, nearly everyone. Korra, Bolin, Iroh, Jinora, Bumi. Even one of the new airbenders, Opal Beifong. About the only person who hasn’t, besides you, is Mako, though I’d argue he probably needs it the most.”

“Wait, Iroh?” Asami blinked, surprised. What on earth would Iroh have come to Pema about? She felt the smallest twinge of worry deep in her stomach. “Iroh asked you for relationship advice?”

Pema smiled again, then took another sip of tea. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Do I… is there anything that I should know?” It was probably nothing. They were fine. Better than fine. Weren’t they?

“I’d like to respect his confidence, so I can’t tell you,” said Pema. She seemed to notice Asami’s expression. “But it’s nothing to worry about,” she added quickly. “Not unless you’ve decided that you don’t like him anymore. Which, based on the face you’re making right now, I somehow very much doubt.”

Asami felt herself relax. She laughed a little. “Not a problem.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” Pema said, a little smile on her face. It reminded Asami of the smile she gave Tenzin when he wasn’t looking. 

She thought briefly of Iroh, smart and kind and strong, and wondered how anyone could _not_ love him. She’d even asked Korra once early on, mostly curious—though if she was honest with herself, a little anxious as well considering how they had competed over Mako. “Too nice,” Korra had said at once, shaking her head. “And too… I dunno… too Iroh. He wears his heart on his face. I need a little mystery, a little edge. I’m already the Avatar; I can’t have someone put me on a pedestal. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

Asami grinned at the memory. It turned out that too nice and too Iroh was just her type. She nodded. "I do, yes."

Pema’s smile broadened. “Good. I suspected as much. You both deserve it. So, now that I’ve wound up making us talk about relationships anyway, what did you _actually_ want to ask me?”

“I wanted to ask you about bending,” she said.

Pema raised her eyebrows. “Bending? What would I know about bending? I’m the only non-bender in a whole family of airbenders, Asami, though we’re still not sure about Ronan. Spirits, why would you come to me about that?”

Asami reached for a sandwich. “But that’s exactly it, Pema. You’re the only non-bender in a family of benders. And I’m… and with Iroh… and Korra, and Mako, and Bolin… there are some things they can’t relate to, no matter how hard they try.”

Pema nodded. “I see.”

“How much do you know about what President Raiko asked me?” Asami took a bite of sandwich.

“Tenzin said he gave you an ultimatum. Either make enough of your smack paddles for the whole of the United Forces, or Future Industries loses all their city contracts. Right?”

Asami nodded, swallowing. “Close enough.”

“And you said no.” She nodded again. “And you wanted to ask me if Future Industries made the right decision?”

“Sort of," she said. "Future Industries is my business. I meant more… ethically.” She paused, trying to think how to phrase the next part. “Raiko can bite me. It’s not about him, and it’s not about the money, or even the company. But the smackers, they didn’t start out as weapons. Just like bending isn’t always a weapon. Spirits, Iroh mostly firebends pots and pans. And part of me wonders if it’s fair.”

“Which part? Iroh using firebending to make dinner?” asked Pema. 

“No, for me to withhold them. For every Viper, what if there’s an Iroh, somewhere in the Forces, who just wasn’t born a firebender? And my mecha could help him be a force for good as much as the same technology would let a member of a bending triad be a force for evil?”

Pema looked at her for a long time. Then she said, “Asami. Years ago, if you had given me a pill that could have made me an airbender, I would have swallowed it in a heartbeat. I know I would have. And not just because I fell in love with Tenzin. It wasn’t about impressing a man. To be an air acolyte without airbending is a particular kind of torture. To fall so in love with a nation and a culture that you can’t ever truly be a part of. I’m not even sure why I did it, it was so painful sometimes.”

Asami nodded. She remembered how it had felt to have Iroh teach her fireforms with the smackers, his warm hands gently correcting her movements. How proud he had been when she’d gotten the first few right. It wasn’t just about Iroh, or about accomplishing a technique. It was about being included. 

“But that doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with me,” Pema continued. “Or with you, or with any other non-bender. People are different for a reason. Look at you. You’re brilliant. And that young man in the United Forces, who isn’t a firebender, he brings something Iroh doesn’t, too. I know you think the world of Iroh, but he isn’t perfect. Asami, it’s not your job to make everyone a bender.”

“But if I can—”

“Asami, I’m serious. In some ways, what you’re saying is no different than the Equalists.”

She stopped cold. 

Pema looked down, as if thinking hard. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “That was going too far.”

“No,” Asami said. “It wasn’t. You’re right. And some of it is selfish. But there’s something else, too. My mecha saved my life. Those smackers saved my life. And that hypothetical man in the Forces, it could save his life, too. Except I’ve decided for him that he can’t have it, all because I somehow let them get into the wrong hands first.

“Pema, you said that if someone had had the ability to make you an airbender years ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated. But what about now? The new airbenders that were made after Korra kept the spirit portals open, many are training under Tenzin to help protect people, but there are probably others that aren’t. They could be anyone. They could even be dangerous. Would you take airbending away from all of them if it meant preventing a few bad people from learning the art?”

Pema frowned. She didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she looked at Asami. “No,” she said. “No, Asami, I wouldn’t.”


	37. IROH

Iroh stood outside the door of the captain’s quarters on his old battleship. He knocked once. 

“Come in,” said a voice. Iroh pushed open the door and had an immediate sense of déjà vu. He realized he hadn’t been back in this room since Commander Cuzon had taken over this part of the fleet and, therefore, converted what had once been an officers' common room back into a combined office and living space for the ship’s captain. Iroh had never lived there himself, preferring a much smaller—and much more private—quarters down the hall when he’d been in command. The room was large, and decorated a bit like some of the finer, more public-facing rooms in City Hall. The white walls were hung with oil portraits of previous commanders and important naval battles, and rich, deep red furniture sat carefully spaced upon a thick patterned carpet. Come to think of it, the room reminded him quite a bit of President Raiko’s office. And Viper’s.

Commander Cuzon sat at the far end of the room behind a finely carved wooden desk that hadn’t been there in Iroh’s day. He must have moved it in when he took over. “I’d like to talk to you about the SWE report, if you have a moment,” Iroh said, and held out the report Lt. Iameh had given him yesterday on the situation in the Southwest Earth Kingdom. 

“What about?” said Cuzon. He hadn’t looked up from whatever he was reading when Iroh entered the room.

“I’m hoping for your perspective, actually. You were deployed there all spring, or nearly. I know most of it was routine, but you were the first one to bring the situation to the attention of the Forces. I know President Raiko won’t want to intervene in a matter internal to the Earth Kingdom, but I’m not sure I agree. In fact, if what’s in here is true, I know I don’t. These people, they aren’t rebels, they’re just desperate. I had hoped that, if you felt the same, perhaps we could convince him to do something.”

“I don’t need your help, Iroh,” Cuzon said coldly. He finally looked up from his papers. His pale green eyes were hard. “Future Industries caved. We’ll have all of the non-benders in the fleet outfitted with the new mecha by next week, and then we’re going in.”

Iroh blinked. He knew Asami had reconsidered, but this was the first he’d heard of any planned action. Which, considering his position, was a very disturbing thought. “How do you know this?”

“I don’t answer to you any more, Iroh.”

“Not directly, _Commander,_ ” Iroh said, trying to put a subtle emphasis on the title. “But still. I don’t want to pull rank, but I will if I have to. This is important. Who said the United Forces are going into SWE? And why wasn’t I involved in the decision?”

“Raiko ordered it. That’s all I need to know.” Cuzon went back to his papers, apparently trying to dismiss him.

Iroh’s heart sank. He’d been afraid of that. In many ways, President Raiko was a brilliant politician. But those same tendencies made him a truly terrible commander in chief. While Iroh was starting to come around to the idea that some kind of peacekeeping might be needed in the south, the idea that Raiko was going behind his back and using the conflict as some kind of political pai sho piece scared him. Not only did they not have enough intelligence, almost no one among the rank and file in the Forces was trained on the smacker technology yet. Iroh had very important plans for that evening and had to get home, but resolved to talk to the president first thing in the morning.

“Cuzon, that’s insane,” he said. “You know it is. Raiko is no general. What is he doing giving you orders like that?”

“I serve at the pleasure of the president,” Cuzon said. Iroh thought he detected a note of derision in his voice. “And if he didn’t see fit to consult you, _General,_ perhaps it’s because he’s finally realized that you’re useless? Although there are four other bending triads for you to arm, if you put your back into it.”

Iroh took a step forward, then ran a hand through his hair. He had to know. “Commander Cuzon,” he said quietly, “why do you hate me?” Cuzon kept reading. “Please. I know we’ve never been friends, but honestly. What did I ever do to you?”

“You really don’t know?” Cuzon asked, finally looking up. Then, to Iroh’s surprise, he laughed. “Of course you don’t. Silly me, why would you have even thought of it.”

Iroh was more confused than ever. “Thought of what? Cuzon, I’m serious. Whatever it is, I’ll try to make amends, but other than briefly holding a job I know you wanted, I’m not sure what I’ve done.”

“You think it’s about wanting to be General of the United Forces?” Cuzon said. His eyes narrowed. “All right, General. You really want to know?”

“I do.”

Cuzon sat back in his chair. “Fine. No, it’s not your job, Iroh. It’s you. You are the absolute epitome of the blood-sucking class that make up the leaders of each of the four nations. Born into power and privilege. Born into money—money you know damned well came from a hundred years of the Fire Nation raping the world, especially the Earth Kingdom. Sure, there is peace now, but did they ever give it back? Of course not. They gave it to you. The best food, the best education, the best training, houses all over the world. Your whole life is built on blood and bones, Iroh, and you don’t give one damn about it. Even worse, you think you’re doing _good_. Prince Iroh II, hero of the United Forces, keeping the Republic safe from absolute fuck-all from the inside of his penthouse.”

Iroh took a step back, stunned. 

Cuzon continued. “Asami Sato is no better. Miss Sato, who was born with a silver spoon so far up her ass even you couldn’t find it. Miss Sato, who inherited one of the largest fortunes in the Republic because her father fought for justice and lost, and then used it to get even richer selling his technology to both the people he opposed and the gangs that murdered his wife. I’m no Equalist, but even I think that’s heartless. And when people like you are in government together, and in bed together, we call it oligarchy. We call it dictatorship. Then you have a chance to help, to be a real force for good for once, and you both fight to pull her mecha from the Forces because your reputations are more important than the blood of SWE. You make me sick, Iroh. Both of you.”

Iroh had no idea what to say to that. It wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. But just enough of it sounded true that he couldn’t quite think of a response.

“Was that clear enough for you?” Cuzon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Commander Cuzon,” Iroh said finally. He took in the other man’s pale, sea-green eyes, his light tan skin. Hair the color of desert sand. “Where are you from?”


	38. ASAMI

Kashiba’s was more crowded than usual. They came here nearly every week, it being just around the corner from Iroh’s apartment, and often had the little hole in the wall to themselves. But the weather had turned wet, and it seemed that many of the patrons of the neighboring outdoor cafes had opted for warm noodles as well. The food was as good as ever, but Asami noticed Iroh was hardly eating. “Is something wrong with it?” she asked, nodding at his bowl.

“What? No. It’s fine.” He seemed distracted. They ate most of the rest of dinner in silence, Asami’s half-hearted attempts at conversation falling flat against Iroh’s stony quiet. He didn’t seem angry, exactly. Just preoccupied, or perhaps worried about something. It could still be the inquiry, and they’d both been under a lot of pressure, but it was winding down. And the unexpected news yesterday that he was going to be an uncle had finally seemed to snap him out of his gloom. Yet when she asked him if everything was okay again, he only nodded at her, tight-lipped and silent. Iroh had never been a good liar, and clearly something was bothering him, but she knew enough not to press him further. 

Asami eventually gave up on him eating much of anything and they left, Iroh swinging a heavy take-away bag from one hand. Thankfully it had stopped raining, but the air was humid and close. They walked out into the night, down onto the main street to where she had parked. Though they were walking distance from Iroh’s place, she had to go back out to the estate to get some materials for a meeting at Future Industries the next day and was planning on spending the night there. Despite its many advantages, she hadn’t actually been to the Sato estate at the edge of the city in weeks. It would be good to check on it, just in case. Asami worried sometimes that she spent too much time at Iroh’s, but as time went on her own large, lonely houses felt that much more empty without him. She still tried to stay at the downtown townhouse once or twice a week, just to give him a break, but as he didn’t seem to want her to leave either it had gotten easier and easier to simply stay. 

“Okay,” Asami said, a little cautiously, as they approached her satomobile. She still didn’t have a clue what was making Iroh so quiet, but whatever it was she didn’t want to accidentally make it worse. “I’ve got to go home. I’ll see you tomorrow though, right?”

“What if you didn’t?” Iroh said suddenly.

“Didn’t what? See you?” 

“Have to go home. I... I mean...” Iroh sputtered a little, then his words came out in a flood. “I mean, you could keep them, or we could do something else? I know it’s not as big, and there’s the workshop and the hangar and… and I don’t need to… or I could? Really it could be anywhere...”

“Iroh, what are you talking about?” He wasn’t making any sense. Iroh looked around quickly, as if hoping someone nearby could help him, but they were alone on the dark street.

He rubbed at his face, put the take-away down, then reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Here,” he said quickly, and thrust it at her, almost as if whatever it was was hot. Asami looked down and saw he was holding a small brass key. It glittered dully in the light of the street lamps. She raised her eyebrows.

“Iroh?”

He looked at the key in his hand, then frowned. “Spirits, this is the worst... I’m sorry… this isn’t...” He ran the hand not holding the key through his hair, then looked her in the eyes. There was something almost fierce in his expression. “You know what? I don’t care. I’m tired of waiting, and I don’t care.” To her shock, he got down on one knee, there on the street next to her satomobile. He held out the key again. “I was trying to ask you to live with me, but that’s not it. That’s not what I want. Marry me, Asami. Please.”


	39. IROH

“And you just did it? Right there in the road?” He and Bolin were maybe a mile out and picking up speed. 

Iroh laughed. “Yeah. I did.”

“That takes balls, man. And you didn’t have a ring or anything? What if she’d said no?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought much about that at the time. It had just seemed like the thing to do. Looking back, he was more than a little surprised at both of them. Nothing about the evening had gone as he’d envisioned. He’d wanted to ask Asami to move in for a while, and had planned on doing it that night at Kashiba’s, but discomfited by his meeting with Cuzon and with all the other diners in the small space he had somehow never managed to find the right opening. Asking her to marry him instead had been one of the most spontaneous things Iroh had ever done in his life, right up there with the first time he’d kissed her. It seemed like, where Asami was concerned, sometimes his heart just bypassed his brain entirely. The fact that she’d said yes, without any of the frills or romance he’d been led to believe women expected, had been almost as shocking. “I’m glad I don’t have to find out.”

Bolin shook his head. “When I told you to tell me if you needed help, I had no idea how bad off you were, Iroh. If I knew your plan was to propose in the gutter with your spare key I’d have staged an intervention.” Iroh laughed again. “I’m glad she said okay, but I’m telling you man. I don’t care how much she says she loves you, after that you’d better get Asami a ring that drags the ground when she walks.”

Iroh grinned. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have something in mind.”

***

It turned out that Iroh didn’t have to go find President Raiko that morning. He was on his way to his office when Lt. Iameh stopped him in the hallway. She looked grim. “Glad I caught you. President Raiko wants to see you, sir,” she said. “Upstairs, as soon as possible.” Iroh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t looking forward to what was going to follow, but it had to be done. Raiko might be an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He had to understand that, without proper chain of command or input from his generals, he was putting countless lives at risk. But Iroh was far from stupid as well, and knew that standing up to a commander who already didn’t like him might finally cost him his job. It was a risk he had to take though. Otherwise, what was he doing? 

President Raiko was waiting for him. He did not look pleased. “I warned you,” he said. 

“Good morning to you, too, Mr. President,” Iroh said politely. “Warned me of what?”

“That there would be consequences if you became a liability.” 

“The inquiry is nearly finished, and there’s no evidence of wrongdoing. I’ve done nothing. Neither has Miss Sato. Sir.” 

“You’re an embarrassment, Iroh. That’s what you’ve done.” Iroh bristled at that, but managed to keep his temper. He’d gain nothing by pissing off Raiko, and needed the president on his side if he was to inject some reason into the plans for SWE.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” he said again instead.

“That’s not what I see in the _Press.”_ Raiko nodded to the pile of newspapers to his right on the desk.

“And the facts don’t matter?” Iroh said, his teeth clenched. One day he was going to walk down to the _Republic City Press_ and choke someone. “Someone stole that mecha, Mr. President. And from what we overheard, it’s probably someone on our side. The fact that the inquiry has found nothing only makes me believe it’s all the more serious. I know we haven’t always agreed, but unless you really, truly believe that I’m behind it, firing me doesn’t solve anything.”

Raiko sighed, but the faded green eyes behind his round glasses were cold and calculating. “There are facts, General Iroh, and there are _facts._ No, I don’t believe you had anything to do with it. The fact is, I don’t think you have it in you. But that mecha went missing on your watch, and the _fact_ is that the press is having a field day with the idea that the RCCC is arming the bending triads. Someone’s head has to roll over this. Unfortunately, I’ve decided that it’s yours.”

Iroh grimaced. “So it’s politics. My head... or yours.” Iroh would have gladly taken the fall for anyone under his command if needed. The buck stopped with him, and he knew it. But it made him a little sick to know that President Raiko felt the same—that the buck stopped with Iroh, that is, and not the commander in chief. Not because he thought that Raiko should take the hit, but because of what it meant about how the president saw the United Forces. “I understand,” he said stiffly.

“No, I don’t think you do. I can’t fire you, Iroh. Whatever the _Republic City Press_ says this week, you’re extremely popular with your men. I expect you’re probably just soft on them, but whatever it is, I don’t want any blowback. I need every man and woman’s loyalty, especially now.”

Iroh expected what Raiko considered “soft” was simply basic humanity, but said nothing. He honestly hadn’t thought that he could think less of the man, but the way he talked about Iroh’s troops made it clear that the president had no idea what loyalty even meant. _Five minutes alone with this guy in a locked room,_ he thought. _Just five minutes…_ Iroh took a deep breath, then counted to ten. He exhaled slowly, then took another. It was an old trick he’d used to combat seasickness, but which also served to calm him down when he felt his emotions getting away from him. “Sir?” he said, once he was on his third count of ten.

Raiko leaned forward, putting his hands in a steeple on his giant desk. “Like I said, I can't fire you. I am, however, doing the next best thing. The last time we talked, I warned you that if you became a liability to me I wouldn’t hesitate to send you to the worst place that I could think of faster than you can say ‘election year.’ And it just so happens that an opportunity has presented itself.”

Iroh blinked. Raiko couldn’t be serious. Active duty deployment, at his rank? Where? There was only one place that Iroh could think of. 

“Sir?” he said again.

Raiko smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Indeed. The Earth Queen herself petitioned me on behalf of the situation in SWE. And I found myself… persuadable. After all, the Earth Kingdom is our nearest neighbor. I think it sends a good message if my highest-ranking general leads the invasion.”

“ _Invasion?”_

“Invasion,” said Raiko. “After all, it’s nothing like the disagreement between the water tribes last year. A group of terrorists is working to seize control of the Queen’s territory. Not unlike the Equalists attempted to seize control of Republic City. They must be stopped.”

Iroh started forward. “Mr. President, I’ve read the reports. These aren’t terrorists. They’re miners, and farmers. I’ve been learning about the area. These people have nothing. I’m surprised it took them this long to rise up. The United Forces should be helping them, working with them and the Earth Kingdom to solve the issues. Not fighting them.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Raiko snapped. “Consider this an order. Get your affairs together, General. Your ship leaves next Wednesday, and I don’t know when you’ll be coming back.”

Iroh ground his teeth. “And the RCCC? Losing Miss Sato and myself on short notice could jeopardize everything we’re doing in Republic City. It’s going well. I can’t imagine that would help your election.”

“The position is unaccompanied, General,” said Raiko. “I know that high-ranking officers are often given certain allowances, but SWE is far too dangerous for civilians. And in any case, I intend to keep Miss Sato as far out of the public eye as possible. I still need her mecha, but having her sail off into the sunset with our brave general while Future Industries is under investigation would send the wrong message entirely. She’ll remain at RCCC or lose her position and all of Future Industries' public contracts, and I’ll appoint a replacement for you from the United Forces.”

“No! You can’t do that, there’s nothing in the rules—”

“I can, and I have,” the president said firmly. He folded his hands on his desk again and smiled. “You can sail on Wednesday with Commander Cuzon’s forces, General—alone—and you can lead the invasion that will end the rebellion in SWE. Or you can refuse and go to prison. Take your pick. I’m honestly happy with either.”

“Raiko, please, this isn’t some popularity contest, this my _life,_ it could be _months_ or even years, and we just... _”_

“Then you should have thought of that before you started fucking the owner of a weapons firm,” Raiko said coldly. “Get the fuck out of my office, Iroh. You’re dismissed.”


	40. ASAMI

“I’ll quit, Iroh, I’ll sell the company, I don’t care. He can’t do this.” Asami meant it, too. When Iroh had taken the position at RCCC she’d understood it meant he was staying in Republic City. And now he was being sent to the ends of the Earth Kingdom, into the front lines of an active conflict, with virtually no notice and no scheduled return? If she was being used as leverage to make him go, she’d do anything to stop it.

“It won’t matter,” Iroh said. They were standing in his kitchen, the evening tea things on the counter, forgotten. “It’s like the South Pole, Asami. If I don’t go, I’m technically deserting. It’s probably not enough to get me executed, not like before, but I’d go to prison for certain. Raiko would make sure of it. We’d be apart then, too.” 

“We could go to the Fire Nation,” she said. It wasn’t a good option, and she knew it, but at least they’d be together.

Iroh shook his head. “And do what?”

“Whatever your brothers do. I don’t see either of them risking their lives all the time. Be a prince or something, for once.”

“Kazai and Matsu both served in the Fire Nation army,” Iroh said. “They risked plenty. They just have different roles now. Like the United Forces is my role.” He waved his hands a little, as if frustrated. “If I abandoned the Forces because I was being sent off to fight I’d be an utter disgrace,” he said. “And even if I wasn’t, no one there has much use for a third son. I love my family, but I’d have no purpose there. That’s not the life I want. For either of us.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Iroh. You’d have me. That’s what I want. Last night I thought that’s what you said you wanted, too.” A part of Asami knew that wasn’t fair. A larger part of her didn’t care. When Iroh had disappeared into the spirit world last year and she’d thought the worst, it had been like she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know if she could do that again, live with that fear, that uncertainty. And Iroh wasn’t talking about days this time, he was talking about months. All she could do was sit here, powerless, waiting. 

Iroh flinched. “Of course that’s what I want. Asami, nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed.” 

“Asami, please, I… it’s hard enough as it is.” Iroh’s eyes were pained. It was almost hard to look at them. “I love you. I want to be with you. I am _going_ to be with you. I just… have to do this also.”

“I’m not letting you go. I’m not losing you, Iroh.” 

“Asami, you’re not losing me!” he said, exasperated. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then how come that’s what it feels like?” she snapped. Asami hadn’t meant this to be a fight. She was just so scared. Last night it had felt like she’d held everything she’d ever wanted in her hands, and today it had simply shattered, like glass. What if something happened to him? She thought of Lt. Iameh in her chair, and knew Iroh would have made the same choice that she had. Or what if Raiko found another excuse to keep him away? What if he didn’t come back at all? In that moment Asami felt she would say anything, do anything, to get him to stay. 

Iroh put a hand on her arm and looked at her. “Asami, listen to me. Yesterday I made you a promise, but it’s not the only one I made. I might not agree with what the United Forces are doing, or why I’m being deployed, but perhaps I can do some good along the way. But more than that, I swore an oath to serve. I intend to honor that. Please don’t make me choose between my promises. Please.”

Asami pulled her arm away and turned her back on him. “Fuck your honor, Iroh,” she said, before she could stop herself. 

She heard footsteps. Then the bedroom door slammed shut behind her.

***

Asami knocked at the door with her foot about a half hour later. “Iroh?” No answer. She leaned down, trying hard not to spill any tea, and pressed the door handle with one elbow. He hadn’t locked it.

The bedroom was dark. Iroh sat on the far edge of the bed, facing the window, his back to the door. She could just make him out, outlined in the bluish glow of the city lights beyond. He had his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He didn’t move when she entered. 

“Iroh?” she said again. “Can I come in?” He didn’t answer. She walked over and put the two steaming teacups down on the desk in the corner. Then she sat carefully next to him on the bed. He didn’t look up.

“Do you hate me?” he asked softly. 

Asami reached over and put an arm around him. He felt cold. Iroh was never cold. “No,” she said. “Of course not. I’m so… oh Iroh, I’m so sorry.” She pulled him towards her, and he let her. He dropped his hands, but kept his eyes on the floor. Asami wrapped her other arm around his chest and turned a little, hugging his side, and felt him press his face into the hollow of her neck. It felt damp.

“I don’t know why this is happening,” he whispered. “All I ever wanted was to do the right thing. The South Pole, standing up RC command, the Triple Threats, SWE. You. It’s like every time I try to come down on the side of right, I’m punished for it. It’s so hard. To just keep going, and have everyone hate you for it.”

“Iroh, I don’t hate you,” she said again, and hugged him tighter. “I’m so sorry I said those things. I’m just… I didn’t know what to do. Last night we had our whole lives ahead of us, and today it felt like it was all taken away. I’m so scared. And so angry. Not at you, never at you. At Raiko. At life. I think a part of me wanted to make everyone hurt as much as I did. You were closest.”

Iroh said nothing. He just breathed into her. They sat there like that, in the dark, for several minutes. Finally, she gave him a squeeze and released him. She rubbed his back, then ran her hand up into his hair and ruffled it a little. “I made tea,” she said. “Care to join me?” Iroh nodded and sat up. She stood and got the cups, then sat back down on the bed and handed him one. He accepted it with a small smile. 

“Thanks.” Iroh took a sip, then made a face. He usually made the tea, and with good reason. He gamely took another sip. “It’s good,” he said.

“It’s terrible,” she laughed, then suddenly felt her eyes well up. She sniffed and looked at her feet, not wanting him to see her cry. “What am I going to do without you, Iroh? I can’t even fucking make fucking tea.” 

Iroh reached over and brushed her cheek, turning her face towards him. “I’m glad,” he said, wiping a tear away with one thumb. “I have to give you a reason to want me back, don’t I?”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up,” she said. “I already want you back, and you haven’t even left yet.” This time, it was his turn to wrap an arm around her. “Iroh, I don’t know if I can do this,” she said. “I know it’s selfish, I’m not even the one in danger, but I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can do it,” he said, pulling her close. “Asami, you’re the strongest person I know.”


	41. ASAMI

“What do you know about the Southwest Earth Kingdom?” Asami asked. She and Korra sat a little away from the group down the beach. Someone shouted and she heard Iroh laugh. 

“Probably just what you do,” said Korra, taking a sip of her beer. “Iroh talked to me about it earlier, and I think he knows as much as anyone. Plus all those fairy tales and stuff he was reading already.”

“But I mean, the situation down there,” said Asami. She shifted on the blanket. It was late afternoon, and hot. It seemed like no matter where she put her legs they started to burn. “A lot of it’s classified, but it sounds like a bunch of poor and mistreated people finally had it.”

“That’s more or less what Iroh said, too.”

“Then isn’t this a job for the Avatar?” she asked. She tried not to sound too hopeful. “Restoring balance and all that?”

“I tried,” Korra said. “And I might get involved anyway. But Raiko was really against it. I think he wants to look like he’s solving something on his own. And with all of the new airbenders here, it’s not a great time for me, either.” Asami opened her mouth, but Korra cut her off. “That doesn’t mean I won’t go if I have to. Just not yet. But if the United Forces can step in, I might not need to. Iroh promised to radio me when he got there and give me an honest assessment. Trust me, I’m paying attention, and so is Tenzin.”

Asami nodded. She hadn’t really expected it to work, of course Iroh would have already talked to the Avatar, but it had been worth a shot. 

“Fireball’s tough, Asami. Don't worry about him. Didn’t I hear he jumped across a bunch of planes in mid-air to impress you the first day you met? With only one arm?” Asami laughed. It hadn’t been to impress her, but yes, he had. Korra looked at her, her blue eyes suddenly serious. “I mean it though. Iroh knows what he’s doing. And more than that, he’s a good man. Maybe one of the best. He’ll follow orders, but only to a point. You can count on him to do the right thing.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Korra looked at her, then glanced up the beach. At the last minute she’d organized the impromptu combination engagement party and send-off for Iroh. Korra might be tough, but she was also very sweet; she’d seemed to know instinctively that Asami was too upset to put something like that together herself. They’d kept it small, just close friends. Pema had set out a kind of buffet lunch on the grass at the edge of the beach on a long folding table that Tenzin and Mako had carried down out of the sky bison shed. Lt. Iameh and her husband, a handsome, wiry man with blonde hair, sat on a blanket nearby, chatting with two of Iroh’s friends from the Forces. Their two boys were around Jinora and Ikki’s age, and had hit it off with the airbender kids right away. Iameh’s youngest, who had to everyone’s surprise turned out to be a firebender despite his nonbending parents, sat next to Meelo on the grass, his face twisted in concentration. It seemed like they were trying to work together to make a fire tornado. Asami was suddenly grateful Iameh had never asked her to babysit.

Meanwhile, on the beach, Iroh and Bolin had set up the smackball net for the first time in nearly two months. They’d been joined by Mako and a young woman with short brown hair whom Asami realized she didn’t know. Bolin seemed to be explaining the rules to her. As she watched he tossed the ball at her, and she waved her arms, redirecting it back with a jet of air. Ah. One of the new airbenders, then.

“Who is that?” Asami asked, nodding to the girl. 

To her surprise, Korra laughed. “That’s right, we never caught you up.”

“Caught me up on what?”

Korra rolled her eyes. “The _drama_ that is Bolin’s love life,” she said. “Did Iroh tell you that Mako almost canceled the night they went to spy on the Triple Threats?” Asami shook her head. She hadn’t seen him that day, and afterwards everything had been so crazy he must not have mentioned it. “Yeah,” said Korra. “Mako did something wrong at work, late paperwork or something that annoyed Lin, so as punishment she made him agree to take her visiting niece around the city that Friday night. He was going to bail on the stakeout, but Iroh convinced him to ask Bolin to do it instead. Except Bolin took it literally.”

“Literally?”

Korra nodded, barely suppressing another laugh. “Yep. Mako asked him to fill in for him, and said something off the cuff like, ‘just pretend you’re me.’ So Bolin showed up and introduced himself as Mako.” 

“He _what?_ ”

This time Korra did laugh. “He sure did. And apparently they really hit it off. They were out all night, and the next day this poor girl, Opal, she tells her auntie Lin what an amazing, romantic time she had last with the sweetest guy, Mako, who took her all over the city and was so kind and attentive, and thanking her so much for setting her up, and Lin is just floored.”

Asami started giggling. “No way.”

“It gets better. So Bolin falls hard, too, because it’s Bolin and that’s what he does, right? He sees her once more that week—this is when you three were all beat to hell, so he didn’t tell anyone—and still doesn’t tell her he isn’t Mako. He didn't know how. _Then_ she goes back to Zaofu and they start writing. _And he signs all his letters ‘Mako.’_ And poor Lin, she keeps hearing from Opal about this amazing guy Mako in Republic City, but Mako of course says nothing at all, and she’s freaking out thinking that her joke to punish Mako for late paperwork somehow backfired into her niece falling in love with this humongous asshole who keeps denying he’s even seeing her.”

Asami was laughing so hard now she could hardly breathe. 

“And _then_ it turns out that Opal is one of the new airbenders. Zaofu is mostly earthbenders, and lots of metalbenders, but Opal wasn’t a bender before. So Tenzin and I recruited her, not knowing any of this, and of course she was thrilled to move to Air Temple Island and be closer to ‘Mako.’ But she wants it to be a surprise, so she doesn’t tell him, and then Bolin and Mako came over to visit! And oh, Asami, you should have seen Bolin’s face when he saw her and she shouted, ‘Mako!’ and ran to him. And I’d pegged her for more of the delicate flower type at first, but I wow did she let him have it when we’d sorted it out.” Korra chuckled, then wiped her eyes. “So that’s who that is. Anyway, I think they’ve worked it out and have gone out a few times.” 

Asami looked over to where Opal and the boys were playing. Iroh saw her looking, grinned, and waved. He was promptly hit hard in the chest with the smackball. He stumbled, but managed to stay in bounds, shoving the ball back over the net with a burst of flame. “Love is hard,” she said. 

Korra glanced backwards as well. “Harder for some than others,” she said. Asami noticed that Mako had looked over too when Iroh had waved.


	42. IROH

Iroh had always liked lists. There was something comforting about seeing the entirety of a problem. Accordingly, he’d almost immediately made a list of everything he needed to do before he left. Some things were easy: pack up, get a haircut, make arrangements so his rent could be paid in his absence. He’d not even considered giving up the apartment; he needed too badly to think of someplace as home. Then there were the more complicated tasks. He’d already set a few things in motion, and when the opportunity presented itself to cross another thing off his list, he jumped at it.

“Bolin,” he said as the other man walked past. “Can I have a word?” Bolin, who had been on his way over to Pema’s buffet, nodded and changed course. Instead he followed Iroh, and they walked a ways up the beach. Eventually Iroh stopped, judging the distance to be well out of earshot, but not far enough away to look out of the ordinary.

“This was very kind of Korra,” he said, looking back at the small party. He hadn’t been feeling very festive, but he’d recognized the gesture for what it was, and had been pleasantly surprised that he’d had a good time. 

“Korra’s like that,” Bolin said. “Besides, we weren’t about to let you slink off.”

Iroh chuckled. “I thought as much.”

“What’s up, I?” Bolin asked, frowning slightly. Iroh could see the beginnings of a sunburn on his nose. “You didn’t pull me away from a fresh beer just to talk about the party.”

Again Iroh was struck with how perceptive Bolin could be. “No. I didn’t. I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

Iroh glanced back to where Asami sat with Korra. “I wanted to ask you to look after her.”

“Me?” Bolin said, surprised. 

“Yeah. Not that she’ll need much, or even want it. Just… I don’t know. Check in on her. Buy her a cup of tea once in a while. And help with anything… anything a man would do, I guess.” He colored a little. “Okay, not _anything,_ but you know what I mean.”

“Okay, of course, but why me?” 

Iroh shrugged. “I trust you. You’re a good friend, Bolin.” His eyes flicked to Mako. “And I’d rather it was you.”

“All right. Consider it done.”

“And Bolin… if anything happens to me...”

Bolin’s eyes went wide. “Hey, no way I, nothing’s going to happen. Don’t even go there.”

“I’m serious,” Iroh said. “It’s unlikely, but there’s always a chance. And if it does, I need you to promise me you’ll help her get through it. Please.”

Bolin stared at him, then nodded. “Okay. I promise, Iroh.”

***

The next morning, a man who introduced himself as Wulin walked Iroh to a small room towards the back of the facility. He took out a set of heavy keys, then opened the door. It looked like reinforced steel. Iroh wondered idly if he’d be able to melt his way out if they chose to leave him in there, and decided that he probably could. There was a reason there was a separate wing for firebenders. 

Iroh walked in and the steel doors clanged shut behind him. He heard Wulin turn the key. The room was about eight feet square and consisted only of two chairs set opposite one another, with a wide metal table in between. Another door, similar to the one he had entered, was set in the opposite wall. Iroh walked over and sat in the closest chair. Visits were typically done in a common room on the other side of the facility, but he’d pulled a few strings and been able to arrange for a more private meeting. He liked to think he did that kind of thing seldom enough that he’d be forgiven for leaning on a little privilege. 

After another minute or so, the door in the opposite wall opened. Three men entered, two on either side, obviously prison guards, each holding one arm of the third. The man in the center had his wrists chained together and wore the light no-color uniform of the inmates. He was older, perhaps only in his late 40s or early 50s, but with a look of someone who had aged rapidly in a short amount of time. About medium height and of a somewhat stocky build, he had short white hair and a trim beard. Deep brown eyes nothing like Asami’s peered out from behind round glasses. He scowled at Iroh. 

The two guards walked the man to the chair opposite him, and Iroh stood. He nodded at the guards. “This shouldn’t take long,” he said. 

“Yes, General,” said the guard on the left, a big, neckless man with a thatch of oily hair. He nodded towards the window to Iroh’s right. “We’ll be watching, but I promise we can’t hear inside. Give us a wave when you’re done.” Iroh nodded in acknowledgement, and the guards departed. 

The old man was looking at Iroh curiously, his eyebrows still knotted in obvious dislike. “You’re just about the last person I expected to visit me here, General Iroh,” he said.

“Please sit, Mr. Sato,” Iroh said, indicating the chair across from him. Hiroshi Sato inclined his head, then pulled out the chair as best he could with his cuffed hands and sat. He moved stiffly, as if his joints pained him slightly.

“And how may I serve the United Forces and the Republic, General?” he said. He had a calm, almost professorial tone that almost masked the undertone of derision. Almost. For a moment, they might have been in his office at Future Industries instead of in an interview room at Republic City prison.

“No service necessary, Mr. Sato,” said Iroh, sitting as well. “This is strictly personal. I actually wasn’t sure that I should come at all. But I thought about it, and I decided that I wanted you to know.”

“Know what?” 

Iroh braced himself. “Asami and I are going to be married,” he said.

The old man started. “What?” he sputtered, his composure cracking. “You? You and my… _you?_ Of all people?”

“Yes.” Iroh was a bit taken aback. It seemed clear from Hiroshi’s reaction that he hadn’t even known they were dating. He might be in prison, but Iroh has assumed he’d had at least some connections that would have told him, especially after all the fiascos in the _Press._

“I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t.”

“It’s the truth,” Iroh said. “We’ve been together for a while now, actually. We’ve even been in the newspaper a few times _._ I’m sorry that it was such a surprise. ” 

“But you can’t!” The old man was almost shouting. “She can’t… after all I did for her, after what happened to her _mother,_ and you’re not just any firebender either, oh no, you’re going to be head of that whole country someday, and…”

“Actually, I’m not,” Iroh said. “And I can. And she can. Asami and I are adults, Mr. Sato. We love one another.”

“Impossible!” Hiroshi banged his fists on the table, the chains between his wrists clattering loudly. “I’ll not allow it.”

“I came to tell you as a courtesy,” said Iroh evenly, “but do not mistake me, I am not asking your permission. You gave up any claim to your daughter when you turned on her at the airfield. Asami has said that she’ll have me, and that is the only blessing I require.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Hiroshi spat. His expression twisted, and for a moment he looked quite insane. “You and Asami both. My darling girl is better off dead than with a monster like you.”

Iroh stared at him. “Mr. Sato,” he said, his voice low. “The last time anyone hurt your daughter I leveled a full city block. There was nothing left but ruin and ash. Say whatever you will of me, but do not threaten her again. Ever.” He waved his hand at the window. “We’re done here.”

“Asami’s mother would be devastated,” Hiroshi hissed. “You spit on her memory. You both do. Tell her that for me. Tell that ungrateful girl how she has broken both our hearts.”

Iroh stood as the two guards re-entered. He walked to the door and put his hand on the lever, but turned back. He didn’t know what he’d expected from the interview, but he was glad, in retrospect, that he hadn’t told Asami he was coming. She didn’t need to see this. “Go to hell, Hiroshi,” he said quietly, then walked out.


	43. ASAMI

Asami felt a hand on her hair. “Hey.” The hand scratched her head a little. She groaned. “Up you go. Come on.” 

“Go away,” she muttered.

She heard a chuckle and slowly opened her eyes. Iroh was leaning over the edge of the bed. He was wearing his running clothes, hair plastered to his forehead, red face dripping with perspiration. She could smell him now, the tang of sweat mixed with the good scent that was just him. He smiled at her. “Well, hello,” he said. 

“You’re wet?” Asami said. It was the best she could come up with. She hated mornings, and had been up most of the night working on her project. She was so close, but had eventually had to stop for safety reasons. She still felt asleep.

Iroh’s smile widened. “It was nice out, so I did the whole loop today.” Asami just blinked at him. Iroh’s long loop was about 12 miles. She still had no idea how he had so much energy first thing. It was all she could do not to simply fall over. But he was leaving tomorrow, and must be trying to get as many miles in as possible before he was stuck on the ship. “Tea is on, two minutes,” he said. “Don’t fall back asleep.” He gave her head one more quick scratch, then ducked out of the room.

Asami heard the shower turn on. She rubbed her eyes, groaned again, then forced herself to sit up. She really was hopeless in the mornings. Thankfully, they’d fallen into a routine that made it somewhat bearable. Iroh woke up early, exercised, then set some tea to steep while he took a shower. Asami then dragged herself out of bed, held her face over the teacup for a bit, and waited for her brain to turn on. After that she’d take her own shower, then finish her (now re-heated) tea with Iroh. She wasn’t precisely sure what Iroh got out of this arrangement, but was grateful for it all the same. While she could set her own schedule at Future Industries, the United Forces, and therefore the RCCC, started early. She didn’t know how she’d manage without him, but she’d have to figure something out.

Asami dragged herself over to the kitchen area and found the teapot and her cup, but today there was something different. For whatever reason, one of her fire smackers was also on the counter. It sat next to her teacup, trigger-side down, the golden band catching the light.

Asami picked up the smacker. Iroh didn’t generally touch her work, so she had no idea how it had gotten on the counter. She put it on and it rattled slightly. The weight felt off, too. _What the hell?_ Though she didn’t dare test it inside, it had clearly been tampered with. But why? She walked over to the table, which more and more these days was functioning as a workstation, and got the screwdriver she’d borrowed from Iroh’s glasses kit. Then she went back to the kitchen and studied the faulty smacker again. Nothing looked wrong with it, but still. She braced it against the counter and used the screwdriver to carefully pry open the two halves of the compression disk. Out fell a ring. 

She caught it just before it would have rolled onto the floor. The band was some kind of light, silvery metal. It was set with three large octagonal stones, each of a deep, saturated gold. Four miniature diamonds sat nestled between them in the corners of the joins. As she looked closer, she could see that the band wasn’t precisely solid. Instead, intricate cut-aways covered the sides in delicate, almost geometric patterns. She turned the ring and it flashed in the light, the facets cut into the golden gems refracting into yellow and orange that made them look like tiny flames. It was stunning.

She heard the sound of a door close. Asami glanced up to see Iroh standing in the hallway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet hair combed back. “I see you found it,” he said smiling. Asami only nodded. She didn’t quite know what to say yet. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“I… but I… Iroh, what?” The ring was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. But she hadn’t woken up enough to understand what it was doing in her hand, let alone inside a smacker. A deep part of her mind understood that they were engaged, and that rings were often part of that. The ring itself, bold yet elegant, with each gem perfectly matched to its fellow, was exactly the kind of thing Iroh might choose, too. But he had already proposed, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about a ring after. Especially with him leaving, she had assumed they would simply do without. After all, a ring at this point didn’t make them any more engaged.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you about Fire Nation courtship,” Iroh said, walking towards her. Asami shook her head. She hadn’t realized it was any different, though now that she thought about it Korra had mentioned something once about the Water Tribes using engagement necklaces instead of rings. It was also easy to forget that Iroh was technically foreign. But when his brother Kazai had proposed to Inae at New Years it had looked normal enough.

“Traditionally,” Iroh said, “in the Fire Nation, in order to marry, the man offered the family of the woman a sum he felt was of equivalent value in either gold, goods, or livestock. This would prove that the man is a good prospect, and would also compensate the family for the loss of the woman’s labor. That was all hundreds of years ago, of course. It’s terrible, if you think about it. I never understood why a poor man’s love is any different than a rich man’s. But, since I’m lucky enough to have the means, I wanted to give it a try.” He smiled and gestured towards the ring.

“You’re… buying me?” she asked. That was certainly what it sounded like.

Iroh’s smile widened. “Of course not. Not at all. Think of it as… a measure of worth, I suppose. For both of us. For what I think of you. And, if you accept, perhaps also a sign that you think I’m worthy of it.”

Asami looked down at the ring, turning it slowly. The golden stones flashed again in the light. She’d never seen anything quite like it. “What is it?” she asked.

“I know gold is traditional, but I went with platinum,” Iroh said. “I didn’t want any metalbenders yanking you around by your hand. As for the stones, those are fire sapphires.” Asami nodded again. She’d heard of fire sapphires, but had never seen one, which, given the society crowds she’d used to spend time with, was saying something. “The purest sapphires come from the cooling of molten rock,” Iroh continued, “which means they’re mostly from the Fire Nation. And they’re rare at that. I hear they take millions of years to form. Fire sapphires like these are even rarer still. So far they’ve only been found on one of the islands. It seems like it takes a particular blend of fire and earth to make them, and one that’s found nowhere else. Almost all the fire sapphires in the world are owned by the Fire Nation royal family, too. It’s the crown jewel of the kingdom.” Iroh looked at her. Asami realized with a start that the gems on the ring were the exact same color as his eyes. “A perfectly matched set like this then,” Iroh said, taking the ring from her. “Well… most would say it’s priceless.”

Asami stared down at the ring in his hand. She didn’t even want to think about how much something like that must be worth. She was suddenly scared to touch it.

“Do you accept?” Iroh asked. He took another step closer, then reached out and clasped her left hand.

“What do you mean? I didn’t need… Iroh, I already said yes?”

“No,” he said, stepping forward. He rested the ring against the fourth finger of her hand, just on the fingertip. “Do you accept that you are priceless?” She just stared at him. He slipped the ring on. It was a perfect fit, though she had no idea how he’d known her size.

Suddenly Iroh bent and hooked one arm under her knees, knocking her into his arms. She squealed in surprise. Then he stood, picking her up, and started carrying her to the bedroom.

“Iroh! What? What are you doing?” She kicked her feet in the air, but he didn’t slow.

“Giving my princess something to remember me by,” he said. “Multiple somethings, if I have anything to say about it.” 

“Wait, I haven’t even showered, and there’s work, don’t you have—”

Iroh kicked open the bedroom door. Asami heard his towel fall to the ground. “Then they can fire me,” he said brusquely, and carried her inside.

The next day, he was gone.


	44. IROH

_ Asami, _

_ I am sorry that you had to open this.  _

_ I told you once that I never made promises I couldn’t keep. This letter makes me a liar. Please believe that I did everything in my power to come back to you.  _

_ I’ve sometimes wondered if happiness is finite. It didn’t seem fair that I should have so much. Maybe you reading this letter is a sign that is true, and that I’ve simply used all mine up. To me, it was worth it. I wouldn’t trade a minute with you for even the longest of lives alone. _

_ I’ve never written anything like this before. I’m not sure what to say.  _

_ I love you I love you I love you.  _

_ Let somebody else love you someday, too.  _

_ I’ll always be across the campfire. Even if you can’t see me. _

_ I hope I made you proud. _

_ Iroh. _

_ P.S. Please don’t forget about Ling. -I _

Iroh folded the paper carefully and placed it in the envelope, then licked and sealed it shut. He wrote carefully on the front in neat block letters:

_ Just in Case _

It was the last thing on the list. They had said their goodbyes that morning, neither of them being able to face doing so in public at the dock. He tucked the envelope where Asami would find it, one corner underneath her teacup on the counter. Then he hoisted his duffel bag, took a last look at the empty apartment, and locked the door behind him.


	45. ASAMI

Asami lay on the couch in the living room of her townhouse, hugging the pillow to her chest, and stared at the fireplace. She’d given up on the bed. She had been too cold despite the summer air and many blankets, and the mattress had felt all wrong. But she hadn’t been able to sleep at Iroh’s either. She supposed it was technically her place too, now, but without him it had only been depressing. She kept looking up at every noise, expecting to see him, and then would miss him all over again when she remembered he was gone. Finally she had taken the pillow from Iroh’s side of the bed, gone back to the townhouse, and curled up with it on the couch. She hadn’t lit the fire though, even though she was cold. Fire reminded her of Iroh, too.

Iroh’s letter, the one marked “Just in Case,” sat on the carved oak end table next to her. She hadn’t known what to do with it. Nothing seemed right. At first she’d put it in a drawer in the bedroom, hoping to forget it. But the letter nagged at her. She found she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Asami had finally taken it out and just stared at it. She couldn’t open it. That would be terrible. But it was something of his, that he’d given to her, and she wasn’t ready to put it away yet. So she had examined it instead. Iroh’s neat print, so unlike what she’d first assumed a prince’s handwriting would be, but which made so much sense now that she knew him. The slight forward slant—Iroh was hopelessly right-handed, and wrote with his hand almost sideways. The funny way the second half of his N’s were always a bit short; the flat tops of his S’s. Finally, nothing left to learn, she’d simply carried it with her from place to place. Asami knew it was stupid. She did it anyway.

She shivered a little and hugged the pillow tighter. She should probably get up and get a blanket, but she was too tired. Instead, she brought her knees up towards her chest, trying to keep in her own heat, and breathed in the scent of the pillow again. Asami knew that was stupid, too. It wasn’t him, and it wouldn’t last. But still, she did it anyway.

As she drifted off, she wondered if Iroh had found it yet.


	46. IROH

Iroh sat on a wooden box at the very prow of the ship, facing out. It was always a bit of a toss-up. The stern was more stable, especially at speed, but up front he could get the wind in his face, and that seemed to help the most. His seasickness was starting to subside a little as he’d gotten used to sailing again, but it had been a very uncomfortable couple of days. He was still hopeful no one had noticed exactly how ill he had been.

The nausea hadn’t been the only unpleasant part of the journey. He missed Asami terribly. Sure, she was gorgeous, and he wanted her physically. To kiss her, to smell her hair, to run his hands over her cool bare skin. But when Bolin had joked that they spent their evenings doing puzzles, he hadn’t been that far off. More than anything, he just missed _her._ Asami was fun. Like him, she was curious about the world, and was fiercely intelligent to boot. They spent a lot of their time together simply talking, wondering about one thing or another, or speculating on the state of the various things and how to make them better. Their very first date, at a tiny dumpling house near the Sato estate, they’d wound up balancing stacked packets of soy sauce a full six inches off the table before the tower fell, without either of them having to explain the rules of the game to the other. And for their one year anniversary she’d made him a wristwatch where all the numbers were 1s—a reference to both the occasion and Iroh’s tendency to always be right on time. He’d laughed so hard he could hardly breathe, but when he’d shown the gift to Bolin and Mako they’d only been puzzled. He, in turn, had done something to her in her office that she’d once joked he’d never, ever do, just to see the shock on her face. Asami… got him, in a way that a lot of other people didn’t, and he her.

Iroh missed his best friend. 

It was like a physical ache sometimes, especially at night when he had little to distract himself. When he’d commanded the fleet, he’d been used to retreating to his quarters as early as was polite, eager for the solitude. Yet even though he was staying in his old quarters, Iroh now found himself out on the deck until well after lights out, avoiding the very silence he’d once prized. He didn't want company, not precisely, but he found that if he listened the right way the ocean sounded almost like someone quietly breathing.

He’d also never been homesick before. When Iroh first joined the United Forces, he’d been so high on adventure, so glad to get out from under his brothers, and been worked so hard besides, that after he’d gotten over being so seasick he could barely stand he hadn’t had time to miss anyone much. He’d been handsome, strong, invincible, and, most importantly, 17. Every port had been new and exciting, every task a chance to learn, every pretty girl someone to stare after, awkwardly, and overthink how he might talk to her until she disappeared around the corner. Now, nearly a decade later, he had a lot more appreciation for the comforts of home. He missed his couch. He missed his runs. He missed his pet fish, and smackball on the beach, and warm noodles from Kashiba’s. He missed fairly regular sex. Especially that last one. Sometimes Iroh thought he was boring, but he didn’t care. It turned out that, at almost 26, he was starting to realize exactly how good boring could be.

Still, in other ways it was wonderful to be at sea again. It had been a long time since Iroh had had a job that didn’t feel like mostly meetings and paperwork, and he’d missed the hands-on aspects of the Forces more than he’d realized. With Cuzon technically commander of the fleet, but Iroh as ranking officer, he was mostly left to his own devices. He’d always liked tactics, so he’d spent the bulk of his time in the command center he’d nicknamed the Map Room, learning all he could about SWE and running every scenario he could think of to resolve the situation quickly with minimal casualties. Iroh had also enjoyed showing Asami fireforms, and decided to put together a training on the smacker mecha for all of the non-benders who’d be using it. The first installment, which he’d delivered just that morning, had been a rousing success. No one would ever accuse Iroh of being particularly social, but it turned out that he liked teaching quite a bit. The idea opened up interesting possibilities for the future.

In his off hours though, Iroh found he liked his box at the prow of the ship. He wasn’t exactly hiding, but he’d been surprised to find that there wasn’t anyone in Cuzon’s command with whom he was friendly. It seemed like most of his own former staff, like Lt. Iameh, had either followed him over to RC command or gone with Bumi to the north. Nauseated and homesick, and faced with Cuzon’s open hostility, Iroh didn’t have much energy for making new friends.

A particularly strong gust of wind hit him in the face and he closed his eyes, leaning into it, breathing deeply. The pages of _Desert Lions: Fables and Legends of the Southern Earth Kingdom_ fluttered on his lap. He’d found he had to press it flat with both hands to keep them from moving too much in the breeze off the prow, but he was able to manage. Iroh opened his eyes and looked down only to see that his glasses had fogged again. He gripped the book between his knees so he wouldn’t lose his place, then started polishing the lenses on the corner of his coat.

“Desert Lions?” said a voice behind him. Iroh jumped a little. Over the sound of the waves, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. He turned to find Commander Cuzon standing a few feet away, a cold expression on his face. “I didn’t realize anyone besides my grandmother had ever read that.”

Iroh shrugged. “There was only one copy at the library, but I can’t say I had a lot of competition. It’s interesting though. Your grandmother had good taste.”

“The library?” For a moment the mildly disgusted expression Cuzon seemed to reserve especially for Iroh flickered into something like surprise. “You couldn’t just buy it?”

Iroh shrugged again. He’d realized there wasn’t anything that he could do to make Cuzon like him. The man seemed to hate not only Iroh, but his whole existence, going back generations. So instead he’d decided to just be honest and try his hardest not to get baited into another fight. “That’s what the library is for, Cuzon. I have nice copies of the things I really care about, but I’m used to small spaces. If I bought every book I wanted to read I’d have nowhere to sleep.” 

“Can’t you just stack them in your mansion?” Cuzon sneered. The disgusted look was back.

“Mansion?” Iroh chuckled. The idea was, after all, funny. Spirits, what would he do with a mansion? He hadn’t even wanted the captain’s quarters. “I don’t have a mansion, Cuzon. I have a one bedroom apartment on the Point, half of which is covered in scrap metal and wires and spirits knows what other bits of half-finished mecha these days. I suppose I could get a mansion, and fill it with books, but… isn’t that the same thing as the library?”

Cuzon looked skeptical, but said nothing. 

“Is there something you needed, Commander Cuzon?” Iroh replaced his glasses and picked up his book. “I was in the middle of something.”

“Since when do you wear glasses?” Cuzon asked instead, frowning a little.

“Couple of years ago. I used to worry about wearing them in the Forces because I thought it would hurt my career, but Raiko is clearly out to fuck me regardless so I decided that I don’t care.” Cuzon blinked in surprise. “What? Don’t tell me that’s not true.”

“No,” Cuzon said, and shook his head. “I just didn’t think you knew any swear words.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. “There’s probably a lot you don’t know about me, Commander.” 

Cuzon’s frown deepened. “Anyway, Raiko’s office wants you on the radio. RCCC business it sounds like he can’t figure out.”

Iroh sighed and rubbed at his face. The idea of walking Raiko’s idiot of a replacement through anything made him tired. It sounded like Asami was being… uncooperative, to say the least, and he’d been getting a lot of these kinds of calls. “Do I have to?”

Something almost like a smile flickered across Cuzon’s face. “It’s your head,” he said. “Channel five.” Then he turned and walked away.

***

Iroh was digging through his duffel bag later that evening when his hand brushed against something hard. A layer of small items, mostly socks and extra books, still coated the bottom of the bag, and he’d been looking for the shoe polish that he knew was in there somewhere. Normally unpacking was the very first thing he did, preferring to have everything in its place instead of all jumbled together, but he’d been so sick and out of sorts that he hadn’t gotten to all of it yet. 

Iroh pulled the mystery item out and found himself holding a black drawstring bag about the size of his fist that he couldn’t remember having packed. He looked at it carefully, but it didn’t seem dangerous, so he untied the knot and opened it over his hand. Out fell a dark gray device about the size and shape of a wristwatch. Iroh turned it over once, twice. It looked like a lot like one of Asami’s smackers, except that this one wasn’t metal, but some other kind of material, perhaps hard rubber or even synthetic. Iroh looked in the bag again and saw a folded piece of paper. He pulled it out and pressed it flat across his knee, then saw Asami’s tiny scrawl.

_I-_

_It didn’t feel right sending you off again without a prototype for luck. I hereby present you with a Future Industries exclusive: the electric smacker! I finally did it. Actually, the ring you gave me this morning was the final piece of the puzzle. You always did bring out the best in me. The refraction in the gems made me think differently about the optical amplification and—nevermind. But it shouldn’t shock you now. Careful though. I didn’t have room for dials, so it’s fixed at a couple milliamps. It will knock most people unconscious, including any big sexy firebenders who accidentally put it on backwards. Emergencies only._

_Bring it back, Iroh. It’s the only one in existence. Just like you._

_Be safe. All my love always._

_A_

Iroh grinned. He looked at the smacker again, careful to pay attention to which side should face out, and slipped it over his right hand. His hands were quite a bit bigger than Asami’s, but Iroh wasn’t surprised that it was a perfect fit. Asami might be a bit on the messy side, but her work was always flawless. 

Iroh slept well for the first time that night, the smacker just within reach on the nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious what Iroh gave Asami in her office for their anniversary? More on that story in the (fair warning, very E-rated) short expansion work, Never Have I Ever, here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838574


	47. BOLIN

Asami took a sip of her tea and frowned slightly. 

“Is it okay?” Bolin asked. They were sitting in a little tea shop in the industrial district, not too far from the docks. At first he was going to take her to one of the fancy places on 6th, then thought about what Iroh would do and had headed to old town instead. Iroh liked nice things, but he seemed to go for authentic over showy.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Asami said. She pushed a piece of loose hair behind her ear absently, then took another sip. The three golden gems on her finger flashed like sudden fire in the late afternoon light. “It’s really good, actually. I’m just not used to this blend.”

Bolin took a drink of his own tea. He wasn’t super into tea, to be honest, but she was right that this was good. It sort of filled you, in a warm way, almost like someone was hugging you from the inside out. Maybe he just didn’t know how to make tea. Mako had always drunk coffee.

“So how are you?”

“I’m good,” she said. She saw his face and added, “No, I’m serious, Bolin. I’m okay. The last of the smackers left with the fleet, so I got the United Forces off my back and I’ve had a chance to focus on other things. The things I really liked about the RCCC in the first place, like putting in the automated outflow pipes, or developing those lightweight pedestrian bridges to go over the spirit vines, stuff like that. The new UF counterpart is a moron, nothing like”—he saw Asami press her lips together—”nothing like what I was used to, but it’s fine. I just go around him.”

“What do you hear from Iroh?” he asked. He may as well just say it. It wasn’t like they both didn’t know why they were here. Of the members of Team Avatar, Asami was probably the one he was the least close to. Bolin knew he fell in love easily, and not always well, but he’d never even considered trying to date Asami the way he had Korra. He liked her a lot, and they’d been through some things together, but Bolin felt like he’d never been able to crack her. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been dating Mako when they met, and after they broke up he’d had to take Mako’s side. But more than that, he got the feeling that she didn’t say half the things she was thinking. She was nice and fun and funny, but there was something about her eyes. It was like there were always wheels turning back there, analyzing you, trying to figure out where your individual puzzle piece fit in the world. Not unlike Iroh, actually. That probably explained a lot. Yet if he was honest, he was probably better friends with Iroh at this point.

“Not much,” Asami said. “I got two letters, but they only plan to put in a few times so they won’t come often. And he was able to call me from Ember Island, but there was a line so he only got three minutes. He seems okay.” She laughed a little, but Bolin thought she sounded sad. “The big dork didn’t have enough to do, so he’s decided to train the entire fleet on the smackers on the way there. It sounds like he’s good at it, too. Iroh couldn’t plug in a toaster, but when it comes to teaching other people how to wield fire he’s got a gift, even with mecha.” 

Bolin could imagine that. Iroh had been a good running coach, too. Bolin still went every Friday. He’d probably never love running, but it felt a bit like saving his friend a seat.

“And do you, er… need anything?” Bolin wasn’t quite sure how to go about fulfilling his promise. He usually knew what to do with girls, even just as friends. Buy them flowers to cheer them up, say nice things to them, take them to some event or other as a distraction, a well-timed hug. But with Asami he felt totally out of his depth. She was so independent and self-contained, about the only thing he’d been able to think of was the tea, and Iroh had told him that himself. 

Asami gave him a funny look, then her mouth quirked. She snorted, then burst out laughing. For the first time since Iroh had left, it sounded genuine. “That ass. He told you to check on me, didn’t he?” she asked, still giggling. “Let me guess, he was worried that without him there’d be no one around to hold open my doors or unscrew stuck pickle jars. Am I close?”

Bolin felt his cheeks grow red. He studied his tea. “Erm. Maybe.”

Asami reached out and covered his hand, and he looked up. She smiled at him. “I’m fine, Bolin. And if I need to open a jar, I’ll use my cutting laser. But… thank you.” Her green eyes met his, suddenly serious. “I mean it. You’re a good friend.”

Asami pulled her hand back and took another sip of tea, but it seemed like something had all of a sudden relaxed between them. “How’s Opal?” she asked, changing the subject. 

“Great!” He meant it, too. At first he’d just been being nice. Opal wasn’t really his type—not in the way Asami wasn’t his type; more like, she was a bit too much like he was. Open, honest, enthusiastic. More cute than beautiful. He’d always been attracted to women with a bit of an edge: Korra, Eska, even Ginger from the movers. But unlike any of them, Opal had honestly seemed to like him, and he’d decided to go with it. Being from Zaofu, she was even into earthbenders. It hadn’t taken Bolin long to realize that edge was way overrated, and that dating someone open, honest, enthusiastic, and seriously cute was maybe the best thing ever. Especially if they were into earthbenders. 

They chatted for a bit after that, Bolin giving her the rundown of his last few dates, Asami giving him tips on good date restaurants he knew he probably couldn’t afford, both gossiping about whether Korra and Mako had a side thing going (he thought they did, Asami wasn’t so sure) and roundly abusing President Raiko. 

In retrospect, Bolin should have seen the satomobile as soon as they left the tea shop. After all, he’s started as a lookout, hadn’t he? It was a nondescript brown, perfectly ordinary, but still. It was moving too slowly, and they were in a part of town where nice satomobiles like that weren’t common. But they’d been having such a good time that he hadn’t been paying attention. 

Suddenly tires squealed, and the brown satomobile shot forward towards the curb. Bolin jumped out of the way on instinct. He tripped over his own feet and fell, landing heavily on his ass, one palm scraping painfully against the sidewalk. He looked up just in time to see two men jump out of an open door, grab Asami on either side, and drag her into the satomobile. The tires screamed again as they peeled away from the curb, the rear door still slightly ajar. It closed with a thump about halfway down the block. Then the vehicle turned the corner and was gone.

Bolin simply sat there, stunned. He had no idea what had just happened, who would want to abduct Asami, or how they had known she was at the tea shop. In fact, Bolin’s only coherent thought was that, if he had been there, Iroh would have jumped in front of the car.

One of his closest friends had given him one job, and one job only. And he had failed.


	48. IROH

“Dammit!” Iroh jumped up and knocked the paperclips onto the floor with one sweep of his arm. He ran his hand through his hair, then kicked the metal chair next to him and swore again. The chair skittered away and hit the wall of the Map Room with a clang. Iroh braced his hands against the table and took a deep breath. Then he knelt down and started picking up the paperclips, piling them back on the big line map of the Southwest Earth Kingdom he’d pinned to the table in the middle of the room. 

Iroh ground his teeth in frustration as he gathered up the scattered paperclips. Lacking a better option, he’d been using them to simulate troops as he tried to work out some kind of invasion plan. But no matter how he tried, it was a bloodbath. Iroh had been at it for days, charting courses, measuring terrain, even positioning earthbenders to modify the landscape, but he’d come up with nothing that wasn’t absolute slaughter. 

It turned out that SWE was remote for a reason. A line of mountains separated it from the rest of the Earth Kingdom. Even though it was early July, this far south at this time of year there would still be snow in the high passes, making any kind of pincer move impossible. Yet a direct assault from the south involved landing on the beach below a long line of cliffs, then a march across a desert of dunes and packed hardpan that was almost perfectly flat until they reached the dusty hills where most of the settlements lay. It was nothing but dry heat and flat, open ground for miles. And when they did reach the hills, they were riddled with mines. The United Forces could hunt for days, months, even years and not find anyone who didn’t want to be found, even if the residents of SWE hadn’t been earthbenders. All the while taking fire from people who knew the landscape, were very angry, and had a limitless supply of high ground, excellent visibility, dirt, rocks, and copper projectiles at their disposal. 

And spirits forbid if the UF really did fight back in earnest instead of only trying to keep the peace. Virtually the only scenarios to do so involved flooding, collapsing, or sending fire down the mines. They would have no way of knowing who was inside. Hundreds of civilians could die. Iroh would never let that happen, but what if something happened to him? Commander Cuzon was actually from SWE, so he didn’t think he would do it either, but Iroh knew almost none of the men and women under Cuzon well and was less sure about them. He’d seen enough action to know the terrible things a man might do if he saw enough of his friends hurt. Hell, he’d been guilty of it himself; once, when Asami had been injured in a battle against dark spirits, he’d been so angry he’d melted a hole taller than he was in a metal gate with only his fists and then obliterated everything on the other side of it. Everything.

Iroh piled the last of the paperclips on the map again, then walked over to the chair he’d kicked and sat down. He rested his elbows on his knees and huffed out another frustrated breath. He would not send his men in there to die, no matter what Raiko ordered. There had to be another way. There _had_ to.

***

He found Commander Cuzon on the flat open deck at the rear of the ship. His back was to Iroh, facing slightly off the port side. At first he thought the other man had tripped, he was moving his arms so fast—it looked like flailing. Then Iroh saw the three heavy metal balls spinning in the air around him. They were so swift they were almost a blur, and the same color as the ship, so at first they had blended in. Iroh guessed that Cuzon had made them himself from some unused metal he’d found somewhere on board.

The metal balls slowed, then whirled upwards in a slow spiral. Iroh stopped, interested. He didn’t have much experience with metalbenders, and those he did know were mostly Republic City Police, who focused their bending training almost exclusively on using their long metal whips. He’d never seen someone do the kind of heavy work that Cuzon was engaged in, or at least not up close. It reminded him a bit of his firebending scales. Which, come to think of it, he hadn’t practiced in a while. He’d meant to try to pump Cuzon for information on SWE, hoping for anything he may have missed, but thought of the chair he’d kicked and abruptly decided he didn’t have the heart for it yet. He was still too upset from his most recent stint in the Map Room, and a few digs from Cuzon right now could lead him to do something he’d regret.

Instead, Iroh walked to the opposite side of the ship and stripped off his jacket, then the shirt underneath and his shoes so that he was standing on the deck in the stiff breeze in nothing but his undershirt. It felt good, and there was no sense getting his things wrinkled. If Cuzon wanted to bend in full dress, and probably wearing that ridiculous metal plate to boot, that was his business, but it was sunny out and Iroh was already hot.

“What are you doing here?” Cuzon snapped, still moving his arms, his face tight with concentration. He must have heard Iroh walk over. The metal spheres swirled slowly in mid-air about five feet above his head. 

“Free deck,” Iroh said, and turned his back on him, determined not to engage. It felt too nice to be out in the wind to let Cuzon get under his skin, and needed a break. Maybe a change of pace and some exercise would help him think, but there wasn’t really anywhere else on the ship to firebend safely, so he’d have to simply ignore him. Iroh slowed his breathing and concentrated, focusing on emptying himself, feeling the energies inside him, their flow, their power; shaping them. Then he brought his right arm back in a slow circle, bit his lower lip, and flung it forward. A cheery yellow ball of fire no bigger than an egg shot over the bow nearly 40 feet before hitting the water with a little puff of steam. Iroh smiled and reset, then pushed a little more power into his throw. The next fireball was identical in size, but glowed with the bright orange of a setting sun. His smile widened. Iroh continued like that, completely focused, slowly increasing the power behind each tiny ball of flame. The last one was a dazzling azure blue that flashed white as it hit the sea.

Iroh locked his hands behind his head and stretched, pleased. He was sure he’d gotten a green one that time. He made a mental note to tell Asami in his next letter, then dropped his hands and fingered his right pocket absently for the electric smacker. He hadn’t gone so far as to wear it around, but he found the small weight of it in his pocket comforting. It was like a talisman of sorts, or maybe just a little piece of home.

He took a few steps back, then started breathing slowly again. He was about to start on the second progression when he changed his mind. What the hell. He could use a little fun. Iroh focused again, this time creating the kind of deep tension in his chest that he normally used to generate lightning. But as the energies snapped back together he kicked his foot hard into the deck of the ship, deliberately breaking his concentration, and _pushed_. Instead of a focused bolt of lightning, a cloud of orange fire nearly seven feet wide ballooned from his outstretched fingers. He’d been ready for it and braced against the deck, and instead of the blast knocking him off his feet he managed to shove the enormous gout of flame over the edge of the railing. He couldn’t throw it as far out as the smaller ones, only about fifteen feet or so, but it hit the ocean with a completely satisfying sizzle and a billow of steam. 

Iroh laughed quietly to himself. _Fireball,_ indeed. He was particularly proud of these because it was a technique he had developed himself. He’d discovered it completely by accident, after he’d first kissed Asami and she’d told him to forget it. He’d tried to lightning bend, but had been so lovesick and upset that he hadn’t been able to properly concentrate. The huge bursts of flame that had resulted from the botched lightning forms had knocked him ass over teakettle, but he had experimented with it since then and was now able to control it fairly well. Just as importantly, he’d learned that he could substitute a stubbed toe for heartache as a way to intentionally tank the lightning bend. Iroh hadn’t found much practical use for the big, slow balls of fire yet, but he thought they were funny, and it was hard enough to do that it always gave him a bit of a challenge. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and went through the rest of his scale exercises, stopping every once in a while to see how big he could make the awkward fireballs. The last one was roughly the size and color of Asami’s bright yellow satomobile, but too late Iroh realized he had overextended himself. The force of the blast pushed him backwards, and though he kept his footing he wasn’t able to throw it off the starboard railing. Instead it hit the deck and rolled slowly over the edge and down the side of the ship, leaving a trail of brownish char behind it.

“Shit,” Iroh muttered darkly to himself, then rubbed at the dark streaks with his bare foot, smearing the fine layer of soot in a circle that only made it worse. He sighed, then jogged off to find something to try to clean it up with. 

When he returned fifteen minutes later with a mop and a bucket, he was surprised to see that Commander Cuzon had beat him to it. The other man was kneeling next to the burned streak with his own bucket and what looked like a rag, scrubbing hard at the deck with a look of anger on his face.

“I’ve got that, Commander,” Iroh said, walking up. 

Cuzon glanced up at him, and the surprised look flashed across his face again before being replaced by his usual dislike. “I’d assumed you’d left,” he said.

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. And don’t do it like that, you’re just rubbing it in.” Iroh dipped his mop and held it up. “I’m serious, back up or you’ll get wet. You have to soak it first. Trust me, I’ve cleaned up a lot of char spots.”

Cuzon backed up, then stood. “Figured servants usually did that kind of thing for you and you were just going to leave it here,” he said, throwing his blackened rag in the bucket.

Iroh started thoroughly soaking the burned area. Really, he had no idea where the man got his ideas. Just leaving a mess and walking away? Iroh couldn’t think of anything more disrespectful no matter who you were, and even if he didn’t like Cuzon very much he’d never even considered it. “Probably more than I realized growing up," he said, "but no. We were always made to deal with consequences, especially from firebending, and anyway it comes in handy. I’ve burned a lot of my own stuff by accident over the years. I can get charcoal out of almost anything now: shirts, sheets, rugs, wall paint, you name it. And everyone in the Forces learns to scrub a deck, you know that. Besides, I’d never leave a burn on another man’s ship.” Iroh looked at Cuzon and smiled slightly. “I’m not a monster.”

Cuzon scowled, then looked down at the burned streak. Iroh rubbed at it with the mop, and was pleased to see that the dark parts were already fading. “Thanks,” Cuzon said finally. It looked to Iroh like he’d just choked on something sour. Then he turned and walked away.


	49. ASAMI

Asami couldn’t say she was surprised that they’d taken her. In fact, she’d been more or less expecting it. After all, burning down the headquarters of the Triple Threat Triad had all but put a target on her, Iroh, and Mako’s backs. The only real surprise was how long it had taken them and, given the heat she’d taken in the RCCC inquiry, even that made some sense. Iroh must have known this as well; she suspected it was the real reason why he’d asked Bolin to keep an eye on her. While her friend hadn’t been able to stop the swipe, Asami thought grabbing her right in front of him was ballsy to the point of stupid. The message had been a clear show of strength: we can get to you anywhere, any time. But if they’d waited even half an hour, no one would have known she was missing until the following morning. It was an arrogant move, and hopefully one they’d regret.

She didn’t know either of the men who’d grabbed her, but as soon as the satomobile pulled away Asami had recognized Shao behind the wheel. That was to be expected, although she was a little curious that Viper hadn’t simply had him killed. The shock had been seeing Mo, the big kid she’d nailed in the crotch so hard she’d dislocated her kneecap, riding shotgun. She’d assumed he’d been unable to walk and had died in the fire. Asami felt another stone land heavily on her conscience as the mental tally of unknown Triple Threats she’d probably gotten killed—all of whom in her mind’s eye looked a lot like Bolin—went up by one. 

She didn’t bother screaming or fighting back. It wouldn’t do any good in a moving vehicle, and it only increased her chances of getting injured again, which in turn lowered her overall chances of survival. Asami realized it was a cold way to think about a kidnapping, but in a lot of ways it was another just Pai Sho—try to see as many moves ahead as you could, while allowing your opponent to see as little as possible of your strategy. She’d always been good, growing up playing against her father, and during the last year she and Iroh had been regular partners. She was better than Iroh, but only just. Asami figured that made her about twenty times as good as Shao. The thought made her smile a little.

“What’s so funny, princess?” Shao said from the front. He must have caught her smile in the rearview. 

_Your stupid mustache._ “Just missing a friend,” she said out loud.

They didn’t take her far, only a couple of blocks to another run-down looking warehouse. She wasn’t sure why it was always a warehouse, but Asami didn’t think creativity was one of Shao’s strengths. They two men in the back bundled her inside and walked her to a sort of back office. One held her arm while the other searched her, quite a bit more thoroughly than the last time. It wasn’t very polite, and she thought Iroh might have killed them if he’d seen it, but she didn’t resist. The man found the smackers and other mecha he was meant to find, placing them one by one on the metal desk in the room. Then his hand found the inside pocket of her jacket. Asami’s eyes went wide. She’d completely forgotten.

The man added a letter to the pile of her belongings on the desk in the office. There, in neat block print on the front of the envelope, were written the words: Just in Case. 

“Give that back!” Asami said, before she could stop herself. 

Shao raised an eyebrow, then picked up the envelope. He looked to the two men who’d been holding her. “That’s enough,” he said. “Leave us.” They nodded and left, leaving just Shao, Mo, and Asami in the little room.

“What do you want?” Asami asked once the door had closed. “You have me. Here I am. You didn’t kill me, so I’m assuming that you want to talk. Let’s talk.” She’d always found it better to take the first shot in tense negotiations. It helped her steer the conversation into what she wanted. She hoped it might work the same way with gangsters. 

“Not yet,” Shao said. He turned Iroh’s letter over, then read the front again and smiled. “‘Just in Case,’ eh?” he said eagerly. “What would be so important that you’d keep it on you? Looks like a man’s writing. Just in case what, I wonder? Just in case you need his half of the passcodes to get into the Future Industries warehouse, perhaps?”

“What? No, of course not, there were never any passcodes. I made that up. Just put it back and we can talk.”

“Sure you made that up, of course,” Shao said, smiling a nasty smile. “Then there’s no harm in seeing what’s in here that _is_ so important.” He moved his thumb up under the crease and prepared to rip the letter open.

“No!” Asami shouted and lunged forwards. Mo stepped forwards threateningly, and she stopped short. “Leave it alone!” she said. She knew it was silly, but for some reason opening the letter felt like the worst kind of jinx. 

Shao’s smile widened. “I see,” he said. “Or maybe it’s better than warehouse passcodes? Codes to a safe at the Sato house? Bank account numbers? I am loving the mystery, but I think I’ll find out.”

“That’s not it, it’s personal, I swear!” Asami felt desperate. “Just leave it, please. It’s not for you, it’s nothing for you!” 

Shao gave her a hard look. “I’ll decide what’s for me,” he said, and tore open Iroh’s letter. He read the single page quickly, frowning, then flipped it over. Asami recognized more of Iroh’s crisp printing, but it was too far away to read the words. “Bugger,” he said, seeing the back was blank, and flipped it back over. Next to him, Mo scanned the letter as well. His brows furrowed in his round face. 

“Please, give it back,” Asami said quietly. 

Shao glared at her, then crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor. “It’s _useless,_ you stu—” 

Mo spun and punched him in the neck. Shao made a choking sound, then collapsed to the floor. Asami flinched backwards. Shao twitched once, then was still. Mo looked at her almost sheepishly. He really was young. At first she’d thought he was perhaps the same age as she was, but now she thought he might be no more than fifteen or sixteen.

“M’da served,” Mo mumbled, and Asami realized she’d never heard him speak. His voice was high and soft, completely incongruous with his enormous body. He had a thick accent as well, perhaps far northern Earth Kingdom. “Earth Queen, then UF. Left me one ‘a them, too. Proud ‘a me, for some reason, though I bet he dunno I was running Trips yet.” He shook his head slowly, then toed Shao’s unconscious body and frowned. “You don’t do that. Not to a letter like that, you don’t, not never.” 

Asami just stared at him. To her surprise Mo stooped and picked up the crumpled letter, then tried to smooth it out against his leg. “M’da always spoke high ‘a Iroh, too,” he continued, “though he din know ‘im personal. Din recognize ‘im when we picked you up before on accoun’a the hat ‘n glasses, I swear. Wouldn’a touched ‘im, I’da known that, though I can’t say the same for you—just business, understand. Good man, Iroh, m’da said, looked after them something fierce. Got ‘is letter anyhow, but still. Good man.” Mo carefully re-folded Iroh’s letter, then handed it back to her. “For what it’s worth, hope you don’t never have to read that.”

Asami took the letter. “Thank you,” she said. 

Mo nodded. “Came to the fun’ral, you know,” he said. “Iroh did. Only commander then. Din even know ‘im and he came anyway. Heard he came to e’ry one. Bothered ‘im, too, you could see it on his face.”

Asami vaguely remembered this. She hadn’t known Iroh at the time, and he’d only been a fleet commander, but the United Forces didn’t lose people often and it had been all over the papers. Thirty men and women, some kind of freak storm. “The _Monkfish?_ ” she asked.

Mo smiled. “Ayah, that’s the one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Mo looked down at the unconscious Shao again, then back at Asami. “You the gen’ral's lady then?” he asked. “For real?”

Asami nodded, then lifted her left hand to show him her ring. “For real,” she said.

Mo nodded. “Looks about what a fire prince would do,” he said. Then he inclined his head towards the door. “Done figure I got no business touching nothing ‘a Iroh’s. Not for a while, leastwise. Came to the fun’ral, he did. You go on, and hope he comes back safe. You tell ‘im that, on accoun’a m’da.”

Asami smiled, then tucked the letter back in her pocket. “Thank you, Mo,” she said. “I will. And for what it’s worth, I think your father is still proud of you.” She gathered up her things and turned to go, then paused. “Mo,” she said. “You’re wasted on men like Shao and Viper. Talk to Mako sometime. He could use men like you.”

“I ain’t no bender,” Mo said, looking down. “Cops don’t take ‘em.” 

Asami fished in her pocket, then tossed him one of the air smackers. “Times are changing, Mo,” she said.

He looked down at the smacker. It looked tiny in his hand. Then he grinned. "Really?" he said. He hefted it once, tossing it lightly in his palm. "Shao gave me one too, but it never done work. This is a nice one, gots it a weight to it. Nice things always got a weight."

Asami frowned. Nice one? Weight? All of her smackers were identical. Identical look. Identical weight. What's more, her mecha was flawless. That didn't mean it wouldn't break, but she'd never had anything come off her line as a dud. And if the smackers had been designated for the United Forces they would have been tested. It was part of SOP for Future Industries. Wheels started spinning in her head. _Oh no. Oh no no no._

"Mo," she said quickly. "Please. If you want Iroh to come home, you have to help me. Now. Can you tell me anything about the man who sold the Triple Threats my mecha? Anything at all? And I'll need to see your broken smacker."

Mo nodded. "Ayah," he said. "Dunno how it helps, but if'n fer Iroh, ayah."

"Please," Asami said. "As fast as you can."


	50. IROH

Iroh stared morosely into his cup. He’d brought his own tea, of course, but at mealtimes he found it best to drink what everyone else did. It wasn’t just about perceptions, either, although he knew Commander Cuzon already considered him a self-indulgent rich man and showing up with his own tea, even if it was just from old Whelan in the ID, wouldn’t help change that. It was that Iroh had always considered the shared experience of the United Forces an important part of service, and something that helped build the trust and camaraderie he knew to be critical for success. It was the same reason he hardly ever drank alcohol; Iroh believed in leading by example, and was generally pleased with the results. Or at least, he had been. 

He took a sip of his tea and grimaced. It was lukewarm and bitter. Iroh found that oddly appropriate. He sat alone at the end of a long table in the wardroom of the command ship where the officers took their meals. It wasn’t quite as ostentatious as the captain’s quarters that Cuzon now occupied, but it was a close second. The heavy wooden table was laid with a spotless white tablecloth, and square windows cut into the high white walls were hung with deep green velvet curtains. Still, before Iroh had moved to the RCCC it had been a pleasant enough place; a place to let his guard down a little, and a chance to catch up with his fellow officers before the end of the day. 

Now, he hated it.

At first Iroh had been surprised to see that there were few men and women in Cuzon’s command that he knew well, and even fewer that he thought well of. He’d been in the United Forces all his adult life, and while he knew he could be awkward sometimes he’d always had a fair number of friends. More than that, he’d felt like he had at least a passing acquaintance with most of the officers, especially after being promoted to general. But after a week at sea, he’d come to realize that most of the officers who had joined the mission to SWE were strangers. As head of the RCCC he’d stepped back a bit from his involvement in the rest of the United Forces, so it wasn’t terribly surprising that there would be new faces, but still. What was worse, they were clearly following Cuzon’s lead and keeping their distance. Iroh liked his space, but not having anyone at all with whom he could socialize had made an already depressing mission downright lonely. 

He had never been in a situation like this before. Iroh had dedicated his life to the United Forces and, despite some annoyances, genuinely loved being a general. But over the last year it felt like things had shifted. President Raiko, technically his commanding officer, had declared that he didn’t care whether or not Iroh went to prison as long as he won re-election. Commander Cuzon, the man responsible for delivering him safely to SWE, treated with open hostility, and reminded Iroh as often as he could that he was not, in fact, part of the chain of command while they were at sea. Together they had completely cut him out of every decision prior to leaving, from personnel selection to charting the course, while making it perfectly clear that responsibility for the invasion and resolution of the conflict was firmly on Iroh’s shoulders. What was the point of being General of the United Forces if the men above and below cared little for you, and trusted you even less? It hurt, but far more importantly, it was incredibly dangerous. Iroh had hundreds of men and women counting on him, and he was all but flying blind.

Instead, Iroh had found himself spending more and more time with the enlisted men. Though the United Forces had always had a mix of benders and non-benders, a surprising number of the men and women on the ships were non-benders. He suspected that word had gotten out about employing the new light mecha for the mission to SWE and that an unusual number of non-benders had volunteered because of it. Iroh’s training sessions on the smackers had become some of the few bright spots of his days, and he was thrilled with how quickly the non-benders had picked up the techniques. But as much as he’d grown to like some of the people that he’d recruited to help him with the trainings, he was still the top general, and he had to be mindful of the power dynamics of the situation. Which was why he was eating alone in the officers’ wardroom, again.

Iroh palmed his cup and pushed fire into his hand. If he had to swallow bitter tea, at least it could be hot. While he waited, he reached his other hand into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out Asami’s latest letter. He’d already read it a dozen times, and it didn’t say anything particularly noteworthy, but it was some small comfort anyway and at the last minute he’d tucked it into his pocket on his way to dinner. As he pulled it out, a photo fell to the table. Korra had taken it last year, on the beach at Air Temple Island. Iroh’s naked back was to the camera as he strode towards the water, Asami thrown casually over one shoulder. She’d been teasing him about something or other after smackball when he’d ducked down and grabbed her, carrying her kicking and shrieking into the freezing bay. The photo had caught Asami mid-laugh, fists pounding fruitlessly at his back, eyes shining, her dark hair falling loose all around her face. It wasn’t a conventional portrait, but it was one of Iroh’s favorites. It was how he always thought of Asami: energetic, full of laughter, and giving a man twice her size absolute hell. He’d kept it in his uniform jacket pocket ever since he’d left Republic City. Spirits, how he missed her.

A shadow fell over Iroh’s shoulder. “What have you got?” said Commander Cuzon. He must have walked over while Iroh was distracted. 

Iroh groaned inwardly. He picked up the photo quickly and stuffed it and the letter back in his pocket. He knew what Cuzon thought of Asami, too, and wasn’t in the mood for it. He put his cup to his lips and grimaced. “Tea,” he said. “Such as it is.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cuzon said. He sat down next to Iroh, uninvited. The anger in his pale green eyes was unmistakable. “The invasion, General. We’re two days out, and you’ve told me nothing. What have you got?” 

Iroh glanced around the room. It was large, but not large enough that they’d be out of earshot. In fact, enough people had slowed their movements that he was certain they were being listened to. He nodded at Cuzon. “Walk with me, Commander.”

Iroh led Cuzon to the open area at the stern of the ship where he sometimes practiced his firebending. It was full dark, and the deck was deserted. There was no moon, and the sky was lit with millions of bright, unfamiliar stars. He glanced around, making sure that they were alone. 

“ _Well?_ ” spat Cuzon. 

“There is no invasion,” Iroh said.

“What? We’ll be there in two days, what do you mean there is no invasion?”

“Exactly what I said. There is no invasion, Commander. I’ve tried everything. There is no possible invasion plan that does anything but make the situation worse. I won’t have it.”

“But Raiko ordered—”

“Fuck Raiko,” said Iroh firmly. “I’m sorry, I know it’s disrespectful, but the president doesn't give a damn about SWE, or the United Forces, and you know it. The man’s a vain, narrow-minded coward, and I’m not going to let anyone die because of it.”

Cuzon looked stunned. Iroh didn’t blame him. He didn’t think he’d have been able to speak that way about anyone in the Forces, let alone the president, even a few weeks ago. But times had changed. Iroh had never cared overly much what other people thought of him, but he believed in respect. Yet he was finding more and more that respect was a two-way street, and that it was perhaps a quality more earned than he’d previously thought. The idea was oddly liberating.

“What are you going to do then?” Cuzon looked suddenly wary. He glanced around the deserted deck, as if slowly realizing that he and Iroh were alone. If either of them went overboard in the dark, a rescue would be almost impossible. 

Iroh pushed him. Not hard, but enough to make a surprised Cuzon stumble backwards a few steps.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Fight me,” Iroh said. He took a step forward and made to shove Cuzon again, but the other man dodged out of the way. 

“Stop it,” Cuzon said, taking another step back. His left arm twitched, and Iroh guessed he was readying some of the metal that he seemed to always keep on his person.

“Come on, Cuzon. Don’t tell me you don’t want to. You hate my guts. So, let me have it.”

“What, so you can call it insubordination? Use it as an excuse to disable me so you can turn the fleet around?”

Iroh rolled his eyes. “For spirits sake, I’m the ranking officer. Who am I going to report you to? Myself?” 

Cuzon frowned at him. “No,” he said.

Iroh shrugged, then stepped quickly sideways and tossed a bright orange fireball at Cuzon. He made it slow, nothing the other man couldn’t counter, but hot. 

“Hey!” Cuzon shouted, dodging to the left. “I won’t be your pawn, Iroh.”

“I’m not looking for a pawn, Cuzon,” he said slowly. He swept both his arms up and brought fire into his palms. Then he held it there, letting the flames dance in his hands. “I’m looking for a deal.”

Cuzon knitted his brows, his mouth set in a hard line. His eyes never left the flickering fire. “What could you possibly offer me?” he asked.

“Hear me out,” Iroh said, still holding the flames ready in case Cuzon moved. “You’re from SWE, right? These are your people, or at least they were. I’ve run every scenario, I’m certain of it, and no matter what it’s a slaughter. Both sides. You’re not an idiot, Cuzon. I can’t imagine you don’t know that as well, no matter what Raiko made you agree to. You fight me now, a real fight, Agni Kai, and I try diplomacy first. It’ll cost me my job, but it’s the right thing to do. I win, you back me up. You tell me everything you know about SWE that isn’t in a book, and we go in together. I figure a bunch of angry Earth Kingdom miners might talk to you a lot faster than they’d talk to Prince Iroh II of the Fire Nation, and we all stand a better shot at living through this. I lose, you don’t. I go in alone. In all likelihood I fail, but I’ll do it anyway. I doubt they’d kill me, but they might, and either way you get to tell Raiko that you followed orders and I didn’t. I get court-martialed, probably even go to jail. You handle the invasion. You become a hero, at least in the president’s eyes, and my job is as good as yours.”

Cuzon stared at him. “You’re in charge of the invasion, Iroh,” he said. “It’s my ship, but once we touch land you outrank me. You could simply order me to help you. Why… why would you stake all of this on the outcome of a fight?”

 _Because this ship is too small for runs,_ Iroh thought. _Because my fianceé is two thousand miles away, and I was only engaged six days before I had to leave her. Because I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I need you on my side to do it, but I can’t think of another way to get you to work with me. Because_ power isn’t everything, _except when it is._

“That’s my business,” he said instead. 

“And if I still say no?”

“Then I make life difficult. I’m not sending our people to die, Cuzon. So I’ll sit on my hands. I don’t help at all. And I tell every man and woman on this ship that it’s suicide, and to stand down. I don’t think they’ll all do it, especially the officers, but I believe the majority of the enlisted men would follow me. You’ll have mutiny. You can try to lock me up, but there’s not much on the ship that can hold a firebender of my ability. I’ve checked. And even if you do find a way to take me out, the mission will be a failure. A failure under your command. You’ll make Raiko look bad going into an election year, and that will be the end of your career. Not to mention that nothing will change for the residents of SWE. Without the Forces to keep the peace, how long will it be before the Earth Queen decides to simply level the place? Six months? Three? Do you still have family out there, Commander?”

Cuzon blanched, fear showing for the first time on his face. He looked around again, but they were still alone. “You said Agni Kai,” he said quietly. “That’s only for firebenders. It’s a trap. If one wins by burning an opponent, I can’t beat you.”

“I actually thought of that,” Iroh said, and smiled a little. “Have I ever told you about smackball?”


	51. IROH

In the end their modified Agni Kai resembled one of the underground earthbender rumbles Iroh had heard of more than smackball. He and Cuzon marked off a double circle on the deck, one just inside the other, using some charcoal that Iroh had made. The rule was that they would stand in the circle and use whatever methods they could come up with to force the other man out of bounds. The first one to step over the inner line lost. It would be dark, but the idea was that if either of them stepped out of bounds their foot would be marked with the charcoal and at least one of the lines smudged, keeping them honest. 

Iroh still didn’t want to hurt Cuzon, but the stakes were too high, and he knew the commander would not show him the same mercy. This would put everything Iroh had practiced during the previous year to the test. He had to find a way to use his fire to push Cuzon over the line without burning him so badly that he was too injured to help in SWE. To that end Iroh had also forgone insisting on the usual attire for an Agni Kai, that of loose trousers and nothing else. While he himself had stripped down to only his pants because it offered him the maximum freedom of movement, he’d decided he would just as soon have a few layers of fabric between his fire and Cuzon’s skin. But that meant that he had no idea what kind of metal might be hidden in the pockets and folds of the other man’s uniform. He simply had to hope that, whatever the commander threw at him, he’d be ready.

Iroh walked to the center of the circle and turned so that he faced outwards. The wind had picked up a little, and he felt a cold breeze ruffle his hair. It wasn't all that late, perhaps only 8 or 9 in the evening, but Cuzon had let it be known that he was engaged in something private and was not to be disturbed. The hope was that the Agni Kai would go largely unobserved. 

Commander Cuzon approached from the other side of the circle, then turned so that his back was to Iroh. “How do I know that you’ll honor the outcome?” he asked. 

Iroh thought for a moment. “You don’t,” he said finally. “In my country, an Agni Kai is the last resort of any dispute. The result is as binding as law, maybe more so, for breaking an oath or obligation adjudicated by Agni Kai is the ultimate shame. It means that a man has no honor. That might not mean much to you. You’ll have to trust that it does to me.”

“And how do you know that I will?” Cuzon asked.

“I don’t,” said Iroh. In truth, this was his biggest worry. “I suppose I’m simply out of other options. Are you ready?” Cuzon grunted behind him. “On my count of three. One. Two. _Three!_ ”

Iroh shoved himself backwards. Benders always expected bending, so he didn’t even didn’t even bother with fire, instead focusing on being faster and using his body weight to throw Cuzon off-balance. He heard the other man curse, but Iroh had what he needed. He’d felt the metal plate under his coat again. Iroh used his momentum to spin, then ducked as Cuzon’s long metal whip shot towards him. The dark metal was hard to see in the dark; Iroh hadn’t thought of that. Cuzon would see any fire he threw the instant he bent it, while he would have to rely a lot more on sound and instinct. It was a stupid mistake, and he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. But it was what it was, and he’d just have to deal with it.

The whip just brushed the top of his hair. Iroh jumped back up and kicked out with his right foot, sending a burst of yellow flame at Cuzon. He tried as hard as he could to control the blast, to make it fast enough to generate force but at a low enough temperature that it wasn’t terribly dangerous. It hit Cuzon in the leg and knocked him back, but not enough to push him out of the circle. Iroh could see that the commander’s pants were smoking, but hadn’t caught fire. That was pretty good. He felt a momentary flash of pride and then Cuzon waved both his arms. The three heavy metal balls that he’d been practicing with earlier in the week flew past him; he must have had them stored elsewhere on the deck. It wasn’t precisely cheating, as Iroh hadn’t specified that they couldn’t use things outside the circle, but it was borderline, and certainly unexpected. 

It wasn’t possible to dodge all three balls. Cuzon had spaced them in a triangle, so that no matter which direction Iroh moved he’d be hit. Unless, of course, he jumped backwards and out of the circle. It was a brilliant move. In a split second Iroh moved right, figuring that if he had to take a hit it was best to take it on his left side since he was right-handed. The metal ball slammed hard into his left shoulder. It hurt like hell. Iroh used the momentum to drop backwards, landing on his hands. A jolt of pain shot up his arm, and he felt his index finger just brush the slight grit of the inner circle. Iroh pushed and kicked out with both feet, legs spread, sending fire in a Y back at Cuzon. _Two could use that trick,_ he thought, and smiled fiercely as Cuzon took a hurried step back, unable to move to either side without being burned. Unlike Iroh, he hadn’t taken the hit, and instead the move had pushed him up right to the edge of the circle. 

Commander Cuzon seemed to realize that as well and rushed forwards as soon as the fire had passed. Iroh was ready though, and had already jumped back to his feet. He released a blast of fire from his right hand—his left arm had gone a bit numb—and hit the other man mid-way, knocking him back and causing him to skid towards the edge of the circle again. Iroh heard him curse, but Cuzon stopped himself before he went out of bounds. Iroh was already moving again, circling around to the left to get a better shot. As he’d told Asami and the non-benders during his trainings, most of firebending was actually about movement, not fire. 

Cuzon pulled both his arms close and Iroh heard the metal balls whistle. They were coming from behind him, having passed by him earlier, and there was no way he could see where they were. Figuring Cuzon would try the same triangle trick again, Iroh started to drop to the ground, trying to get low enough to avoid another injury. But he’d been wrong. Apparently Cuzon had been going for his legs. As he ducked down one of the metal balls hit him square in the small of the back, knocking him sprawling The pain was unbelievable—apparently the balls had picked up speed in their wide arc around the circle. 

Iroh yelled. It wasn’t very manly, but dammit it hurt. He lay there, catching his breath and trying to shove down the pain in his back, when he felt the deck ripple beneath him. Of course. It was metal. Iroh didn’t know how much energy it took to pull up the deck, but it had to be enormous. He hadn’t factored that into the fight, not because he hadn’t realized that they were both standing on fifty tons of steel, but because he hadn’t thought it was possible. Iroh tried to get up as the metal beneath his legs abruptly popped up, flinging him forwards. He skidded towards the edge of the circle. Iroh pushed fire out of his hands as hard as he could, using the same kind of force he did when he did his long jumps, the ones Asami called flying. He managed to stop himself from going out of bounds, but only just. Spirits, he really needed to spend more time fighting earthbenders. 

A metal ball slammed into the deck a quarter inch from his right hand. Iroh jerked back, careful not to accidentally go over the line. A second ball sped towards his knee and he only just got out of the way. If he didn’t find a way to get off the ground, he was either going to get seriously hurt or have no choice but to break the circle. Iroh thought fast. Cuzon had mostly dominated the fight. The closest he’d gotten was when he’d sent the two fireballs at the same time. Whereas Iroh had taken a ball to the shoulder rather than step back, Cuzon had flinched. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Iroh rolled towards the center of the circle, barely avoiding another metal ball, and propelled himself into a crouch. Then he took a deep breath and stretched the energies inside him, as far apart as he could, and let them snap back together. He brought his arms together just as another metal ball slammed into his left shoulder blade. Iroh’s concentration shattered, and with it the bolt of lightning he’d been preparing to release from his outstretched hands. Instead, the biggest fireball he had ever made exploded from the tips of his fingers. It filled nearly the entire circle. Iroh didn’t wait. He sprang to his feet and rushed forwards to where Cuzon had been. He couldn’t see past the flames; if he was wrong, he would run straight out of the circle. But he wasn’t. 

Cuzon, blinded by the flames, hadn’t been able to see Iroh coming. What’s more, he’d probably expected more fire, not a physical attack. Iroh hit him at a run, slamming his right shoulder into the center of the other man’s chest. His back screamed in pain, but Iroh had hit him as hard as he possibly could anyway. Cuzon went flying backwards, eyes wide. He landed on his back outside the circle with a clang and skidded, coming to a stop nearly five feet outside the line. 

Iroh pushed his hair out of his eyes, took a deep breath, and stalked over to the fallen Cuzon. The other man was still down, though he’d gotten his elbows under him and had propped himself up. He stared up at Iroh blankly, as if not yet having processed what had happened.

“Will you honor it?” Iroh said. Cuzon didn’t reply. Instead, he was looking at Iroh with a strange expression on his face. 

“Dammit, Cuzon!” Iroh shouted. “Tell me! Will you honor it?”

Cuzon’s face twisted. Then he slowly nodded. Iroh reached a hand down. After a moment’s hesitation Cuzon grasped it and Iroh pulled him up. They stood there for a moment, neither man talking, simply catching their breath. The deck seemed eerily quiet.

“Now what?” said Cuzon in a subdued voice. His tone had none of the usual cold dismissiveness that Iroh had been used to. Instead, he sounded resigned, almost sad. 

“Get some rest,” Iroh said. “I’ll need you in the Map Room—er, that would be the Command Center—at 08:00. We have a lot of work to do.” 

“Very well,” said Cuzon. He brushed at the burn on his pants, then straightened his jacket. In the dark, you could hardly tell he’d been in a fight. Unlike Iroh, who was shirtless, sweating, and covered in angry red welts that promised to turn black and blue by morning. At least he hadn’t been hit in the face this time. Hopefully his shirt would cover the worst of it.

Cuzon nodded once to Iroh again, then turned and started walking away. “And Commander,” Iroh called. “I’m very glad to have you.” Cuzon kept walking.


	52. ASAMI

Asami yanked open the door of the warehouse and almost ran into Bolin. He’d been running for the door, his face red, eyes panicked. For a moment Asami was simply confused; with everything that had happened, she’d entirely forgotten that Bolin had been with her when she’d been grabbed. Both of them froze.

Asami recovered first. “Bolin! What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to save you?” It came out more as a question than a statement. He looked her up and down, seeming to notice that she hadn’t fought her way out. “Or, I was?”

“It’s okay, Bolin,” she said, reaching up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m fine. They let me go.”

“They let you go? Who? And why? What’s going on, Asami?” 

There was no time. “Later,” she said, and started off at a jog. “But if what I think is correct, there’s still a lot of saving to do. Come on, I’ll need your help.” She grabbed Bolin’s arm as she passed and dragged him backwards until he fell in behind her. Thankfully he went with it. There would be time for explanations on the way. 

They made their way as quickly as they could back to where Asami had parked near the tea shop. It turned out that Bolin had run all the way. While it wasn’t that far, distance-wise, Asami found the fact that he’d been able to follow the satomobile fairly impressive. He hadn’t been fast enough to keep it in sight, but running with Iroh had made him a lot faster than he used to be and he had gotten close. For the rest of it, he’d taken off his shoes and felt for the satomobile’s vibrations through the ground. There weren’t a lot of other vehicles about, and with a little work he’d been able to more or less track them. It turned out that he’d been practicing the technique in order to impress Opal, who came from a long line of powerful earthbenders and who’s blind grandmother, Toph Beifong, had actually been able to “see” using only her feet. For once, Asami thought, Bolin outdoing himself to impress a girl had paid off.

As they made their way back Asami thought as hard as she could about what Mo had told her. Her mind whirled, running through every fact she had, piecing the clues together. She and Iroh and the RCCC had been so focused on the who of the missing mecha that they hadn’t thoroughly considered the how. But the inquiry hadn’t been able to find any smackers missing from what the United Forces had already acquired, and nor had anything been absent at her warehouse. If the United Forces had everything accounted for, and so did Future Industries, then what did the Triple Threats have? The numbers simply didn’t add up.

It had taken carefully examining Mo’s broken smacker to solve that particular puzzle. Suddenly Asami had known how the Triple Threat Triad had gotten the light mecha, or at least the ones that didn’t work. _Republic City Press,_ page six. She’d had a smacker on her hand, clearly visible in the photo. It wasn’t enough to reproduce the tech, but it was plenty good enough to fake it, and what Mo had was so close on the outside it would have fooled her as well if she hadn’t been looking for it. Come to think of it, why had a photographer been following them anyway? They'd thought that their relationship had been the story, but it was just as likely that the photo that was published was an extra sold to the _Press_ to make a quick yuan, and that there were other, better photos of the smacker tech. And where had Iroh gotten the smacker he’d hidden her ring in? Iroh was terrible with mecha; he couldn’t pick out a wrench from a box containing nothing but wrenches, let alone disable a miniature mine on his own. It should have taken his head off—unless he'd already known it didn't work. She should have seen it.

No one had missed the smackers because they hadn’t actually gone missing. Or because something else had taken their place. Asami had a sinking feeling that the lives of everyone who had gone on the mission to SWE might depend on which of these things it was. 

But she needed more information. Who could build a perfect fake smacker from a photograph? Her father, for certain, but he was in prison. That only left one other person. 

***

Asami pounded on the door to Varrick’s penthouse fifteen minutes later. She’d driven so fast that Bolin had closed his eyes for most of the journey, whispering “I’m too young to die” quietly to himself over and over. She hadn’t cared. If there was one thing Asami could do, it was drive fast while angry. Before she met Iroh she’d gotten a lot of practice. 

“Open up!” she yelled, banging on the door again. “Varrick, you asshole, open this door right now! You stupid, shallow, two-timing son-of-a-bitch. Let me in this minute or I’m sticking a mine on the hinges and blowing half your flat straight into the spirit world!” 

The door swung open. Varrick stood in a floor-length robe of blue velvet trimmed with thick white arctic camel fur. The robe was open at the center, revealing nothing but a bare chest and fuzzy white boxer shorts that might have been made from the same fur as his robe. He stared at her placidly, seemingly unruffled by her shouts. “Really, Asami,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I may be many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. The others… perhaps you have a point.” Varrick turned his head and called back into the house. “Zhu Li! Put on some tea. We have guests.” Then he stepped aside, sweeping his arm in courtly invitation. His robe flapped around his ankles. “Please, come in.”


	53. ASAMI

“How was I supposed to know he knew how to work them? But he tried it straight off, and then I remembered that I had urgent business that required me to run far, far away from any angry firebenders.” Varrick leaned back on the couch and took a sip of his tea. “This was ages ago, just a month or two after your super sexy picture in the paper. It didn’t take me long to get the look right after all. Haven’t seen it since. Beautiful though it was, I figured General Iroh destroyed it.” Varrick smirked at her. “Seemed like he already had enough beautiful things, eh?” 

Asami grimaced. That explained how Iroh had gotten the smacker he’d put her engagement ring in. Varrick had apparently tried and failed to steal her idea based on the picture in the _Press,_ and when he couldn’t get it to work he’d attempted to sell the failed experiment to the United Forces anyway, hoping that a powerful bender like Iroh couldn’t tell the difference. But, having worked with Asami on testing the smackers and not being a complete idiot besides, Iroh had realized what it was immediately and confiscated it. She didn’t know why he hadn’t told her, but she had a guess. Like when Mako had come to him after he’d spotted that first smacker at the raid, Iroh must have thought the idea that Varrick was trying to replicate her mecha would only worry her. It was sweet, but when he came home she was going to have to convince him to be less protective. When he came home. _When._

Asami glared at Varrick. In a lot of ways he looked like Korra, with the medium brown hair, bright blue eyes, creamed coffee skin typical of the Water Tribes. Yet there the resemblance ended. Whereas Korra was powerful and muscular, Varrick was tall and lean, though not in the same way Iroh was—the inventor had probably never worked out a day in his life, and instead had the look of a naturally skinny man whose age was starting to catch up with his habits. He wore his perfectly coiffed hair a bit too long and sported the smallest, thinnest mustache that Asami had ever seen. Varrick was oddly pretty as well, with long eyelashes, an upturned nose, smooth skin, and carefully sculpted brows. When Asami had first met him she’d thought that his picture should be in the dictionary next to the word “fop,” and Varrick had done nothing in the years since to make her change her mind. At least he’d had the sense to belt his ridiculous furry robe closed.

“But you didn’t just make one, did you?” she asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She needed answers, she had to be sure, and the only way to get there was to keep Varrick talking.

“Of course not!” Varrick waved his arms theatrically, sloshing a bit of tea onto the head of his assistant, Zhu Li, who sat next to him on a wide white couch. “Economies of scale, my pretty friend. That mecha might be utter junk, but you bet I got the cost per unit of that junk down as low as I could get it.”

“But what did you do with them?” Asami asked. “I assume you never got them to work, but I know you sold at least a few to the Triple Threat Triad anyway.” Varrick flinched a little at that and had the decency to look guilty.

“Perhaps I did,” he said. “Perhaps. But you know I’m always here to help the little guy. Especially if that little guy wants to give me a bunch of money for mecha that doesn’t work. I even gave them a discount, because I care.”

Bolin leaned forwards from the blue wing-backed chair next to her, frowning slightly. “How is the Triple Threat Triad the little guy?” he said. “They go all over Republic City intimidating the little guy into giving them bogus protection money.”

“Whatever,” shrugged Varrick. “Their money is just as good now, isn’t it? It would be discriminatory to discriminate.”

“Why did the Triple Threats buy smackers that didn’t work?” Asami asked. This was the part she hadn’t been able to figure out.

Varrick looked around quickly, then leaned forwards, even though there was no one else in his apartment besides the four of them. He cupped one hand to his mouth and whispered conspiratorially, “They didn’t exactly _know_ they didn’t work. But they wanted more and I got wind of it. I don’t know how they got real ones, I swear, but I had some extras I needed to part ways with once your inquiry started. It didn’t seem like their original source was selling. If they were willing to pay good yuans for the next best thing, who was I to say no?”

Asami ground her teeth. Sometimes Varrick’s lack of morals was astounding. “Varrick, you said extras. Extras from what? How many of the fakes did you make, and where did they go?”

Varrick cocked his head, obviously surprised. “You mean you don’t know?”

Asami sat back in her chair, confused. “Of course I don’t know. Why do you think I almost blew down your door?”

“Your father bought them,” Varrick said, and calmly took another sip of tea. “Or at least, his money did. I thought that’s why you were here, actually. I figured he told you.”

“Varrick! Why would you sell anything to my father? He’s in prison for treason!” Asami was astounded. Her father had been locked up for almost two years. She’d had no contact with him since the sentencing, and was under the impression that she controlled all of his assets. She had no idea how her father could have done any of this.

“Look, Asami,” Varrick said, waving his hand dismissively. “The only way to deal with crazy guys is to say yes and take their money. Besides, the mecha didn’t work! I might be lazy, but it’s not often someone actually pays me for it.”

“But my father is in jail. How did he contact you?”

“Oh, he didn’t,” said Varrick. “He can’t get out of prison, and I’ve been too close to inside it to venture anywhere near the place. A man approached me about a month ago asking if I could do the work. Said he’d seen the one Iroh had and wanted about 1,000 more. I told him it would cost him, he gave me a deposit right then and said to get started. I, being the faithful businessman that I am, got started. He picked up a box of them early, said he wanted a closer look, then left me to do the work. Then two weeks ago I got the wire from Hiroshi himself for the full amount. Your father always was a gentleman, even if he is a bit...” Varrick twirled his finger around his temple. “Right after that the first man came to get the rest.”

“Who put in the order?”

“Don’t know him,” said Varrick easily. “He didn’t tell, I didn’t ask. I’m a gentleman, too.” 

_“You sold a bunch of counterfeit military weapons to a man you didn’t know, had a convicted felon foot the bill, and you didn’t even ask who he was?”_ Asami couldn’t keep the rage out of her voice now. Varrick had done some crazy, dangerous, terrible things over the years, including blowing up one of his own buildings and having Mako thrown in jail, but this had to top the list.

Varrick took another sip of his tea. “Who are any of us, really?”

Asami rubbed her temples, trying to stay calm, to focus on the facts. She had to make sure that she got this right before she called it in. The stakes were too high. “Okay, let me get this straight,” she said. “You saw the picture of a smacker in the paper and tried to replicate the tech, but couldn’t. You tried to sell it to Iroh anyway, but he called your bluff. Then a few weeks later someone comes to you asking for more of them, with full knowledge that they don’t work. You get to work, handing off a few, and then we get wind that the Triple Threat Triad is using them. But the ones they have are real. You keep making fakes anyway. Then you get a big check from my father a few weeks ago, deliver the rest of the counterfeit smackers, and sell your extras to the triad hoping to make a quick extra profit.”

Varrick nodded. “That’s right. Except for the quick part. I worked on those things for months. The profit part is real enough though.” He leaned forwards and gestured to the tea that Zhu Li had brought. “If you look closely, there are gold flakes in that. I‘ve heard it helps with stamina.”

“Varrick, you didn’t stop to think that any of this was wrong?” said Bolin. He looked as shocked as she felt.

“Listen pal,” said Varrick, pointing a finger at Bolin. “If I didn’t cooperate, things were going to happen. Bad things. Like being poor. Varrick Industries is the greatest company in the United Republic, but only if I can consistently steal ideas from other people. You can hardly blame me for that.”

“But _why?_ ” asked Bolin, bewildered. “Why would Asami’s dad and that other guy buy a bunch of weapons that didn’t work? It sounds like the Trips only got a few, but you said you made way more than that, and that they knew they were fake. Varrick, what would anyone do with a thousand duds?”

But Asami knew. There was only one possible answer. Her father had already armed one rebellion, after all. 

“Varrick, I need to talk to General Iroh. _Now._ ” 

Varrick frowned slightly. “That’s unfortunate. It sounds like he’s far away. Perhaps if you shout loud enough? I can open a window.”

Asami glared at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a radio that can reach the fleet.”

The side of his mouth ticked up. “Well, what would it be worth to you if I did?” 

Asami snapped. She launched herself at Varrick. With one hand she pushed him hard into the back of the couch; the other reached up into her hair and pulled out the new model electric smacker she’d designed as a hairclip. She pressed it to his neck. “It’s worth exactly 2.5 milliamps, Varrick,” she hissed. “And _my_ mecha always works. What do you think?”

Varrick swallowed, his blue eyes wide with fear. “Seems reasonable,” he said. He nodded to his assistant. “Zhu Li, do the thing,” he said. Zhu Li put her tea on the table, seemingly taking all of this in stride, then got up and pulled a small lever set into the far wall. One of Varrick’s bookshelves revolved, displaying a small communications terminal on the other side. 

Asami released Varrick, then dug in her pocket for the instructions for the fleet emergency frequency. It was at the very bottom of the inside pocket of her jacket, having not ever been used. She piled the smackers the Triple Threats had found, minus the one she’d given to Mo, and the rest of the contents of her pocket on the coffee table before locating the small piece of paper. 

She walked over to the tiny desk and sat down, then flipped on the switches that powered the long-distance radio. She read her instructions one more time, then dialed to the right frequency. 

“Southern Fleet Command,” said a crisp woman’s voice.

“Hello, this is Republic City Central Command, Asami Sato speaking. I need to speak with General Iroh immediately.” 

There was a pause on the other end. Then the woman spoke. “I’m sorry, but General Iroh is with Commander Cuzon, and they have asked not to be disturbed. I note this is on the private line. Is there a message I can convey to the Lieutenant Commander on duty instead?”

Damn. She couldn’t trust anyone. “No, this is for General Iroh only. Please get him on the line as soon as you can.” Asami gave the frequency and directions for calling back to Varrick’s. Then she walked back over to the chair next to the couch and sat down with a huff. What on earth could Iroh be doing that he'd block a call on the private line?

“Zhu Li?” she said. “Is there any more tea? I might be here a while.”

It was another hour before Asami heard the radio beep. 

“Iroh,” said a familiar voice. He sounded bone tired.

Asami rushed to the radio and hit the transmitter. “Iroh, have you checked the mecha?” she said quickly.

“Asami?” The voice perked up a little. They must not have told him who had radioed.

“Iroh, it’s me. Answer me, have you checked the mecha? The smackers, did you test them?” 

“Are you okay?”

“Just tell me!”

A pause. “Asami, you radioed me over the emergency line at night to ask me that? I told you, I’ve been training the non-benders with them all week. There are some still in boxes, but I thought Future Industries tested everything, too?”

“Then they must be somewhere else on board,” she said, almost to herself.

“What? I don’t understand. What’s on board? Asami, what’s going on?”

“Iroh, you have to listen to me, Varrick made duplicates. There’s going to be a switch. It might not have happened yet, but that has to be it. The smackers aren’t for the Forces, they’re for the rebellion, and someone is going to make the switch.” 

There was no reply. “Iroh?” Nothing. “Iroh! Iroh, they’re fakes, the mecha you’re going in with, it won’t work!” Silence. “Iroh! Tell me you understand. Say something, please. _IROH, ANSWER ME!_ ”

But there was nothing on the other end but silence.


	54. IROH

Iroh stripped in the tiny bathroom of his cabin and took stock. In the harsh light he looked even worse than he’d thought. The most obvious injury was where the first metal ball had hit his left shoulder, in the meaty part just below the joint. An area the size of his closed fist was raised and white around a small jagged cut—apparently the impact had actually broken the skin. The flesh surrounding the lump was a sickly yellow that was already starting to turn purple at the edges. By morning Iroh thought it would be closer to black. It had been a calculated hit, and given the choices it was a good place to take a blow, but that didn’t make it fun. He’d be lucky if he could use his left arm at all tomorrow. He also had a smattering of cuts and scrapes across his arms and chest from the few times he’d skidded across the deck on his bare skin but, while they stung a little, they were relatively minor. Nothing that would add to his collection of scars. _Shame,_ Iroh thought with a little smile. For whatever reason, Asami had made it clear she was kind of into the scars.

He turned slightly to look at his back. It would be easy to think he’d taken it worse on his front with all the scrapes, but Iroh knew enough about injuries to understand that often the worst ones were those you couldn’t fully see. His entire lower back looked slightly swollen from where the second ball, the fast one, had hit him just to the right of his spine. Though the area hadn’t started to darken yet, the amount of swelling made Iroh think that it was only because the bruising was deep. He didn’t like to think about what might have happened if he’d been standing just an inch or two to the right. The other blow, the one he’d intentionally used to break his concentration on the lightning form, had been to the back of his already injured left shoulder. This one was a bit more obvious, and he could already see the purpling line of his shoulder blade where the impact had hit hardest. _Bookends,_ Iroh thought grimly, then rolled his shoulder gingerly. It hurt. A lot. But the fact that he could do it meant nothing was broken, and that in and of itself was good news. He’d take what good news he could get. He hadn’t been this badly hurt since the South Pole, and maybe this was even worse, but still. For an Agni Kai, Iroh knew he’d gotten off easy. 

He took another long look in the mirror and wondered briefly what his life might have been like with a different career. A librarian, maybe, or a university professor. Something quiet and interesting, and where he didn’t get beaten up quite so much. But Iroh knew he’d have been restless. After all, he himself had called the Agni Kai, and pushed Mako to go after the Triple Threats, and called Cuzon out into the alley, and disobeyed orders to go to the South Pole and fight Unalaq, and run to the tallest tower on his ship to try to take down the Equalists’ planes even though he knew he’d take fire for it. Iroh was pretty sure even as a librarian he’d have found a way to get his ass kicked. It was simply too hard for him to stand by and watch others get hurt.

He sighed deeply and pulled his gaze away from the mirror. All Iroh wanted to do now was fall into bed, but instead he flipped the shower on as hot as it could go. The water would help with the soreness, and he honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to manage it tomorrow after everything stiffened. Besides, there was no sense in getting blood and sweat all over his sheets. Iroh always made a point to put things away clean when he could, and tonight that included himself. He stepped into the shower simply stood there with his face in the jet, letting the scalding water run over him, trying not to think and just relax. He stood like that for a full two minutes, wasting water and not caring, before he grabbed the soap and began to wash.

Iroh heard the knocking as soon as he turned off the shower. It wasn’t clear how long it had been going on. He quickly dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist, then went to the door. He opened it to find a young lieutenant, one of the many he hadn’t recognized, standing outside with a concerned expression on her face. Iroh noticed that she had the same sea green eyes and dark blonde hair as Cuzon, and wondered if perhaps she was from SWE as well. Come to think of it, quite a few of the officers Commander Cuzon had brought with him had a similar look. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that a crisis in SWE had attracted volunteers from that region in the same way Asami’s smackers had attracted non-benders. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed that before.

“General Iroh,” the lieutenant said, her green eyes lingering for a moment on the enormous purpling bruise on his upper chest. “Call for you on the private line. Commander Cuzon said that you both were not to be disturbed on the back deck, so radio gave them a callback. I believe they’re standing by.” Iroh gritted his teeth. Only a few people had access to the private line, which was meant for emergencies only. He’d given it to Asami, of course, and Iameh and a few other top staff, but also President Raiko and his fool of a replacement for Iroh at the RCCC. Iroh had only two guesses as to which of these people it was, and it wasn’t anyone he was in the mood to talk to at the moment. Still, he gained nothing by pissing off Raiko, especially considering what he was planning with Commander Cuzon, and anyway he had little faith that refusing would get him in bed any sooner. 

“Very well, Lieutenant,” he said instead. “Just give me a moment.”

***

“Iroh,” Iroh said into the mic. It was about as much energy as he could muster.

To his surprise, Asami’s voice came through the speaker. “Iroh, have you checked the mecha?”

“Asami?” That was a pleasant surprise. He hadn’t actually spoken to her since their brief phone call from Ember Island. 

“Iroh, it’s me. Answer me, have you checked the mecha? The smackers, did you test them?” Iroh frowned. Check on the mecha? What was she talking about? He’d written her already about his training program. She knew he’d been using them.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead.

“Just tell me!” She sounded frightened now. Spirits, what was going on? Had she found some kind of a defect on the manufacturing line? If so, it hadn’t affected the performance of anything either he or the crew had practiced with.

“Asami, you radioed me over the emergency line at night to ask me that? I told you, I’ve been training the non-benders with them all week.” He thought a bit. “There are some still in boxes, but I thought Future Industries tested everything, too?”

“Then they must be somewhere else on board,” Asami said. Iroh had no idea what that meant. 

“What? I don’t understand. What’s on board? Asami, what’s going on?” She didn’t answer. “Asami?” Still nothing. Iroh toggled the receiver a few times. “Asami?” No answer.

There was a knock on the door, then the blonde lieutenant who had taken him to the radio room opened the door. “Comms are out, sir,” she said. “I heard there’s a storm off Kyoshi Island.”

“Dammit,” said Iroh, and flicked off the radio. “Will you tell me when they’re up?”

“Yes, sir.”

Iroh trudged back to his cabin, disturbed. Asami wasn’t one to cry wolf. He knew her moods, and she hadn’t been simply concerned. She’d been close to panicked. Something about the mecha, and something else on the ship? Iroh turned it over in his mind, but couldn’t find a connection. He’d simply have to hope that he could reach her again and ask what had made the bravest woman he knew sound so scared.


	55. KORRA

“That’s you,” Korra said, and tipped her bottle slightly. She took a sip. It was getting warm, but that was okay. It was still her first. Mako was on his third beer, at least. 

“Last one, Korra,” Mako said, his brows creasing. “I mean it. This was a bad idea.”

Korra rolled her eyes. “That’s because you keep losing. Come on, pretty boy. Yours went out first. Pay up.” Mako sighed, then reached down to pull off a sock. “No, no, don’t be lame. I want the shirt, come on.” Mako sighed again, then unbuttoned his shirt. He had an undershirt on beneath, so it wasn’t even anything. He tossed it to her and it landed on her calf with a plop. 

“Happy?”

“You’re such a coward, Mako,” Korra said, and put it on over her blue top. She took another sip of her beer. He really was. Not in the traditional sense, of course. Mako could fight, no question. He’d put it all on the line, for herself and for others, on multiple occasions. But he was a coward all the same. Korra wasn’t sure why it didn’t bother her more. Maybe because she’d always been so sure of herself. Finding someone with enough humility to doubt, to constantly second-guess themselves, was interesting. Even if it was also sometimes infuriating.

Korra held out her hand and pointed one finger. “You ready?” she asked.

“Korra, I think I’m done.” Mako made to get up. They were sitting on the floor of Mako’s apartment, so she wasn’t sure where he planned to go though. 

“Oh, come on. Are you afraid?” That usually got him.

It did. Mako put out one finger. “ _Fine._ Have it your way.” 

Korra counted to three and pushed fire into her hand and out her index finger. A bright yellow flame flickered to life, and she saw Mako do the same. Immediately, Korra started to blow on Mako’s finger, as hard as she could. She felt his breath on hers as well. The goal was to blow out the other person’s fire before they blew out yours. The loser forfeited a piece of clothing. It was something they’d played back when they’d been together, just for laughs. But Korra hadn’t told Mako that she’d been subtly supplementing her breathing with her airbending. It wasn’t lying, exactly, since he hadn’t asked. But it looked like if Mako didn’t beat her he’d quit, so this time Korra let him win. She peeled off one long arm band and tossed it his way.

“Now who’s the coward?” Mako added it to the pile next to him, which also included her belt. Korra stuck her tongue out at him, then finished off her beer.

“Grab me another?” Mako nodded and hopped up, walking to the kitchen. 

“How’s Asami doing, by the way?” he asked as he went. “I haven’t seen her since… you know.” The “you know” was implied. Hadn’t seen her since Iroh left, he meant. 

“She’s tough,” said Korra. “And they always knew it was a possibility. No one dates a soldier, even one as high-ranking as Iroh, without knowing there’s a chance they’ll spend some time apart.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mako said, sitting back down on the floor with both beers. He handed her one, then held the opener as she popped the cap. They’d always worked well together, even on little things. “And you’re right, Asami is tough. Both of them are. But it’s just, with those two, they’ve been attached at the hip, or face, or whatever since the battle with UnaVaatu. They’re kind of intense. I didn’t know how she was taking it.”

Korra frowned a little. She didn’t know why Mako was so concerned. Sure, they were all friends, but it wasn’t like he had any particular reason to be worried about Asami. “She’s fine. I saw her a few days ago. She’s dealing, throwing herself into work. I think Bolin was going to take her to tea today, actually, and then Tenzin and I were planning on having her out to Air Temple Island this weekend.”

In truth, Korra had found Asami’s whirlwind romance with the General of the United Forces a bit perplexing herself. They’d met briefly during the Equalist rebellion, while Asami and Mako had still been a thing, and as far as she knew they’d simply been cordial despite the two of them and Bolin taking Hiroshi Sato’s airfield together. If there had been sparks then, she hadn’t seen them. Then more than half a year later Asami had shown up with General Iroh at the South Pole, seemingly out of nowhere. Korra hadn’t seen them together herself until after they’d all returned to Republic City, but they’d only been off the boat for a day before it was clear they were an item, and a hot and heavy one at that. If they weren’t already sleeping together, they certainly wanted to be, and anyone within twenty feet of them could tell. Though apparently Asami and Iroh had spent some time together on the trip down to the South Pole, it had still all seemed very sudden.

To Korra’s surprise it hadn’t been a rebound fling, either. Instead, Iroh had slowly integrated into their social circle, becoming a regular part of their group despite being six years older. And he and Asami, rather than growing tired of one another, had instead gracefully transitioned from the somewhat uncomfortable stage where they always looked about five seconds from banging to the far more depressing stage of being obviously, stupidly in love. And now they were engaged. Korra liked the big fireball just fine, but sometimes she had trouble understanding what Asami saw in him that made her heart stop. He was good-looking, for sure, but he was also just so… something. He'd never play Strip Flameout. Or at least she hoped not. Spirits, but that would be awkward. Yet whatever they had clearly worked, for both of them. Korra knew she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a tiny bit jealous of that. 

“Any word from I?” Mako said, leaning back to take another pull on his beer.

 _Asami isn’t single yet, if that’s what you’re asking._ “A letter and a quick phone call, last I heard. He seems to be doing alright.”

Mako nodded. Then he rubbed the back of his neck. It was something Korra had noticed he did when he was nervous. “So, want to order some food or something?” 

There was a knock at the door. Mako hopped up, peered through the peephole, then opened the door. Bolin rushed in.

“Hey, come on in. Korra’s here, and we were just going to—” Mako stopped when he saw his brother’s face. He looked pale and worried, but with bright spots on his cheeks as if he'd run all the way there.

“Hey, why all the doom and gloom?” Korra asked. “I thought you were with Asami. What happened?”

“Something bad. And hey, Korra.” Bolin blinked a little in surprise, and Korra felt her cheeks color. She’d forgotten that she was still wearing Mako’s shirt. “Anyway, I don’t understand all of it, but something with Iroh and Varrick and Asami’s dad and all that light mecha that Future Industries made for the United Forces. It’s all connected, the stuff with the Triple Threats, everything. It sounds like something went wrong, something big, and Asami can’t reach Iroh to warn him. So, we’re going to go get him. Or rather, she’s going to go get him, and I care enough about not being electrocuted not to try and stop her. So instead I’m going to help, and I came by to try to convince Mako to come along. And Korra, you saved me a trip to see you, too. I think we need the Avatar for this one.”

“Where are we going?” asked Mako. “And how? We won’t all fit on an airplane, and Iroh and the fleet have more than a week’s head start.”

“No idea,” said Bolin, his green eyes slightly bewildered. “But Asami and Varrick are doing something, and I trust half of those people. My job was to get you two if you’re willing and get to Varrick Industries as fast as possible. So, what do you say? Is this a job for Team Avatar, or what?”

***

Korra, Mako, and Bolin got out of a cab outside Varrick Global Industries. Though its headquarters was at the South Pole, the exclusive shipping partnership Varrick had extracted out of Asami after he’d orchestrated the theft of most of Future Industries’ mecha tanks meant that there was now a sizeable presence in the United Republic, including several warehouses and berths in the industrial district near the docks. They made their way inside the front entrance to the first warehouse, which Korra saw now sported a sign that read: “Varrick Global Industries: Imagivation Happens Here!” 

As soon as she walked through the door Korra saw the blue-white sparks that she associated with Asami’s welding. She had never seen a weld in her life before they’d become friends, but she’d spent enough time around Asami in her workshop to recognize it straight off. But she was so focused on the bright light that she missed the enormous dark shape in the open space until Bolin whispered, “Whoa.”

The airship filled nearly the entire building, which Korra realized wasn’t a warehouse at all but a vast hangar. Although it was almost too dark to see, as her eyes adjusted she could make out the rounded shape of the enormous gas-filled body and the small, windowed compartment underneath. Korra breathed a little sigh of relief. She’d flown in airships before, and was grateful to find that Asami and Varrick hadn’t invented some other insane means of transport instead, like a huge walking robot or mecha tanks with wings. 

It turned out that Asami had convinced Varrick to lend them one of his airships for the journey. It wasn’t as fast as a plane, but it could carry all of them, fly through the night, and go over land, which made it their fastest option by far. While Future Industries had airships as well, Asami assumed that whoever was keeping her from reaching Iroh might already have measures in place to keep anything coming out of Future Industries on the ground. Korra also got the distinct impression that Asami was making Varrick do penance for his role in the whole scheme, and that her “convincing” involved a lot of very specific threats of bodily harm. Korra herself was usually the bad cop, but Asami was a slow burn and that much hotter for it. Really piss her off and spirits you’d better _hide_. Korra wasn’t surprised that her friend had always had something of a thing for firebenders.

While Bolin had been fetching Mako and herself, Asami had been modifying the airship. Over Varrick’s quickly silenced protestations, she’d welded a few large metal cones to the back of the gondola. Apparently, she’d added quite a bit of power to the engines, and intended to use them to help the airship move faster. When Korra asked why they didn’t have those anyway since fast was probably a good thing to have in an airship, Asami only shrugged behind her welding mask, mumbling something about it being expensive and potentially explosive. Korra didn’t like the sound of that last one, but knew enough to keep her mouth shut. Asami knew what she was doing.

“All right, five minute warning!” Asami called as she finished up. “Everyone get your gear and get on.” Varrick started to slink away. “That means you, too, Varrick. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“But I can’t possibly be of value to—”

“ _Varrick._ ” Asami’s voice was very quiet, but Varrick stopped talking. “Get. On.” He swallowed hard, then made his way onto the airship, Zhu Li following silently behind him. 

As the airship left Republic City behind, Asami filled her and Mako in on what she knew and what she thought it meant. There was a lot of intrigue and double-crossing involved, but at the end of the day what Korra got was that the United Forces was probably about to launch a large peacekeeping mission using a bunch of weapons that didn’t work, and that various attempts that Asami had made to warn Iroh about it had been unsuccessful. She’d tried to raise him on the emergency frequency about every half hour, but had gotten only dead air. According to Asami, there wasn’t much that could naturally interfere with a radio frequency that completely for that long. Her assumption then was that it was deliberate. Which meant both that Asami was on the right track, and that they were running out of time.

“I can’t believe my father would do this again!” Asami said angrily. She slammed her fist into her palm, then looked up, eyes blazing. “You would think a seven-year prison sentence would have taught him something.” She glared at them all, as if daring someone to disagree that prison should have reformed Hiroshi Sato by now.

Korra didn’t really know what to say to that. She and her father had had their differences, but overall she loved her family deeply and knew they felt the same. As many times as she may have screamed, “I hate you!” to them, she had no idea what it might be like to actually mean it. She’d wondered sometimes if that had come between her and Mako as well. She hadn’t known how to fight with someone whose experience growing up hadn’t been one of unconditional love, but rather of actual fighting.

Asami sighed, her anger suddenly fading. Instead, she looked tired and scared. Korra realized that her friend had probably been using the anger just to keep her going. Now that they were on the move and there was nothing to do, she’d finally cracked. Asami turned, then walked over and slumped into one of the seats that lined the walls of the airship. Korra followed her, throwing the others a look that said it was girl time, and sat down gently in the seat beside her.

“I just wish I could talk to him,” Asami said quietly. 

Korra wasn’t entirely sure which “him” Asami meant, but neither was going to happen, so instead she tried to change the subject. “Any idea who the other man was? The one who approached Varrick?”

Asami shook her head. “No. And Varrick swears he was careful, talked a lot on the phone, kept his face and hair hidden and stuff. Medium height, medium build, and male is all I’ve got to go on. I’ve been focusing on other things instead. Someone who would have been able to see Iroh’s broken smacker, who has the kind of access needed to swap out United Forces equipment, and who either went or has ties to someone who went on the mission to SWE points to someone from the RCCC. That narrows it a bit, but not much, especially since we don’t know that he’s acting alone. I can think of fifty people who meet that description.”

“Then, who would want to do it?” Korra asked. “I’ve had my issues with the UF crew, but they’re generally the good guys.”

“I know,” said Asami, sounding frustrated. “I don’t like to think that anyone there would be involved. And most of all, I can’t figure out _why._ Southwest Earth Kingdom is so remote they even gave it the wrong name. Who would care enough about it at Republic City Central Command to risk so much, especially since the United Forces are technically going there to help anyway?”

“Maybe it doesn’t look like help?” Korra offered. She’d seen enough struggles as the Avatar to know that sometimes the biggest conflicts were built on misunderstandings. “After all, Raiko called it an invasion. And technically he only ordered it because the Earth Queen asked for help. These people in SWE, they’re fighting the Earth Queen, right? Maybe now they think they’re fighting the UF as well.”

Asami rubbed at her forehead, then looked at Korra. Her green eyes were still angry, but beneath the anger she could see sadness as well, and hurt. “What I really can’t figure out is why my father got involved. However fucked up it was, my father believed in Amon and the Equalists. He really did. But from what Iroh said, a lot of the SWE rebels are earthbenders. They want independence, not equality. Besides being a rebellion, it’s completely different. I don’t get it. He was never a revolutionary… before. What is he doing?”

Korra didn’t answer at first. Asami was right. It didn’t make any sense. If there was no moral reason for Mr. Sato to be supporting the rebellion SWE, what would be worth the thousands, or even millions, of yuans that he had apparently put on the table to cripple a United Forces peacekeeping mission to a place where he had no interest? 

Unless… the place didn’t matter at all, and what mattered was the United Forces part. Unless the question was not what would be worth thousands of yuan to Hiroshi Sato, but who. After all, in the chaos of a failed invasion, what was one more dead soldier? 

Suddenly Korra felt cold. “Asami,” she said slowly, “what if it’s something else entirely?”

Asami frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Did you ever tell your dad about you and Iroh?”

Asami paused, confused. “I haven’t seen my father since he went to prison,” she said. “Iroh and I were in the paper, so he could know we’re dating, but that was months ago. If he had a problem with it, he would have sent me another angry letter that I could burn. He sent a lot of those in the beginning, you know. But he didn’t. He tried to kill me, Korra. I can’t imagine he cares who I’m dating. Why?”

“But Asami, your father hates benders. And firebenders especially. And probably Iroh in particular since he burned up all those planes and stopped the Equalists from taking out the rest of the fleet during the battle. You didn’t tell him that you’re marrying the guy who stopped Amon’s army from winning?”

Asami shook her head. “No. I haven’t talked to him in years. I certainly didn’t tell him we’re engaged, and I can’t imagine Iroh or anyone else did, either. Not that many people even know.”

Korra frowned. She thought that telling Hiroshi Sato that he was marrying his daughter was exactly the kind of stupid, honorable thing that Iroh would have done. 

“Listen to me," she said. "I don’t think your father cares about SWE. Or at least, I think that part is just convenient. That’s why it makes no sense—we were thinking of the wrong reasons.” She met her friend’s eyes. “Asami, this isn’t about arming the rebellion at all. I think this is a hit.”


	56. IROH

Asami sat across the table from him. They were at a booth somewhere fancy, maybe Arashiyama, but for once it wasn’t crowded. The white tablecloth between them glittered with silver and crystal. Music played softly in the distance. 

Asami was wearing the same kind of dress that most of the women at the Triple Threat’s gambling house had been wearing. Iroh didn’t recognize it; it must be new. The cut was loose, so different from the tailored suits she wore to the office, the neck cut into a deep V. It was dark red, and covered in some kind of sparkling material that caught the light when she moved. He found he couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Your move,” Asami said. Iroh looked down and realized that, instead of dinner, the table was covered in a Pai Sho board. The pieces didn’t seem familiar, but in a flash of insight he knew he was losing. Badly. He had a sense that he’d missed something, something important, something that should have been obvious, but wasn’t. 

He looked up again to see that Asami had moved. She was now sitting next to him in the booth. Her lipstick was the same color red as her dress. She put one hand on his thigh, then slid it slowly up his leg. “Look at the board, Iroh,” she said, but Iroh couldn’t. All he could see were her green eyes, her dark hair, white skin against crimson. Crimson. Because Asami wasn’t in the deep red dress anymore. Instead, she was wearing his United Forces jacket, unbuttoned at the front, and that appeared to be all. The hand that had been on his leg ran slowly up his chest. “Iroh,” Asami breathed as she leaned in. “Iroh, look at the board.”

Iroh woke up. It was dark. Everything hurt. He closed his eyes again, trying to bring back the dream, but Asami was gone. 

After a minute he slowly sat up. It was excruciating, especially in his lower back, but he gritted his teeth and managed it. He had too much to do today to lie around in bed. Instead, he carefully put on a t-shirt, checked to make sure he was vaguely presentable, and made his way out to the open deck on the stern again. There he found the same mop and bucket as before and, moving as little as he could, made sure to rub out the charcoal circle that he and Commander Cuzon had used for their Agni Kai the night before. That done, he went through a progression of basic fireforms. He hardly used any power at all, just little bursts of flame, and instead focused mostly on the stretching. As he’d predicted, his left arm was of little use at first, but by the end of thirty minutes of steady work he’d warmed up enough to at least be able to complete all the movements. It all hurt like hell, but Iroh knew he’d regret it later if he didn’t try to loosen himself up.

He made his way back to his cabin just as the bright orange sun just was peeking up over the ocean. On the way he popped in to the communications room, but the lieutenant on duty said she hadn't been able to raise Asami yet. That was odd, but it was pretty early, so Iroh let it go. He took another shower, though with a bit less indulgence than the night before, then got dressed as best he could. He was walking out the door when he changed his mind and got his own tea. He hurt, and he was in no mood to drink the garbage from the mess today. He glanced briefly at the tea set he kept in his room, thought for a moment, then took the whole thing. It was going to be a long day.  
  


***

Iroh had been in the Map Room for over a half hour before Commander Cuzon arrived. He was seated at the table again, map open, a pile of paperclips to his left, a steaming teacup on a saucer to his right. Like most things on a ship, the Map Room wasn’t terribly big; just a single metal table, four chairs, a number of bolted-down filing cabinets containing charts and other records, and a mounted chalkboard opposite a large world map. Iroh had balanced the rest of the tea set on top of one of the filing cabinets. He was also wearing his glasses again. He’d found it helped with the fine print on the maps.

Iroh looked up as the door opened, then nodded to Cuzon. “Good morning,” he said, and smiled. A part of him hadn’t been sure if the other man would show or not. He still wasn’t sure he could trust Cuzon, but it was a start. Spirits, he had no choice but to try.

“Good morning.”

“Tea?” Iroh asked. He gestured to the tea set on the cabinet. “It should still be hot.”

“Are you serious?” asked Cuzon, raising an eyebrow. Iroh could see that his face was slightly pink, as if he’d been sunburned. Or perhaps gotten too close to a fire. “You made tea?” 

“Tea is always serious,” Iroh said, turning back to the map in front of him. “Would you like some or not?” He heard Cuzon walk behind him, then the small clink of china.

“Sugar?”

“In a tea like this? You’d ruin it.”

Cuzon walked back around, then pulled out the chair opposite Iroh and sat. He took a sip of his tea, and his eyes widened a little. “What is it?”

Iroh felt the corners of his mouth turn up. “White dragon. Good for mornings. It’s delicate, but packs a bit of a punch. I figured we could use it.” Cuzon took another slow sip and leaned back, smiling slightly. It was the first time Iroh had seen what looked like a real smile on the man, instead of something ugly and mean. But tea had that effect on people. “I’m glad you like it. My grandfather always says that good tea is its own reward, so thank you for coming.”

Cuzon nodded slightly. “Not a lot of tea in SWE. I’ve never had anything like this.”

“It’s not a common leaf,” Iroh said. “It’s not expensive, but it’s difficult to brew correctly, and the leaves can be easily mistaken for a similar plant that’s poisonous. Most people don’t bother with it, but it’s one of my indulgences. My family is rather into tea. My great-granduncle, the first Iroh, actually abdicated to run a tea shop in Ba Sing Se.” It was a bit more complicated than that, but it fit the story. Iroh picked up his cup, wincing slightly as he moved his back, and took a sip. “I brought a few other kinds as well.”

Cuzon put his own cup down, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with white pills. He shook two out onto his open palm, looked at Iroh, then added a third. 

“Here,” he said, dumping them onto the table in front of him. Iroh looked at him questioningly. “Just aspirin. You look like you could use it.” Iroh picked up the white pills and studied them, then popped them in his mouth, washing them down with another sip of tea.

“Thank you,” he said. 

“So,” Cuzon said, leaning back a little, “now that I’m honor-bound to help you, what do you need?”

Iroh thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know where to ask you to start. Anything. Everything. Who is in charge? How do I get to them without being killed? What could I, or the United Republic, or anyone else offer them to get them to stand down, assuming that complete independence is off the table?”

But Cuzon was already shaking his head. “What did I get wrong?” Iroh asked.

“Damn near everything,” said Cuzon. “You’re thinking like you’re from the Fire Nation. Hierarchy. Decisions. Concessions. None of that will work in SWE. You wouldn’t get five steps off the beach.”

“So how do I get off the beach?”

“They take you.”

“How do I get them to take me?”

“You’re not listening, Iroh. You don’t get them to do anything. You’re a guest in their land, in their home. You fucking stand there, that’s what you do.” 

“Okay,” Iroh said. “I stand there. And then?”

“And then they come to you. They will offer to take you to one of the villages. You say no.”

“I say what? But I want to go—”

“ _You say no,_ Iroh. They ask you a second time, and you say no again. Because it’s polite. They are taking time out of their day to talk to you. Time that they could be working or spending with their families. It’s the same with food and drink. I’ve learned to adapt, but in SWE if you had offered me tea, I would have said no twice before accepting, even if I was dying of thirst. Because I’m taking something from you. I’m imposing. Not accepting until the third invitation assures both parties are serious about the gift, be it time or food or anything else.”

Iroh nodded. “Okay. So I say no again, and then they offer a third time and I can finally say yes?”

“Yes.” 

Iroh rubbed at his face. “All right. Then we go to a village. How do I find out who is in charge of the rebels? None of the UF intelligence included a name.”

“That’s because there isn’t one,” said Cuzon. He was smiling slightly again, evidently enjoying Iroh’s confusion.

“What?”

“There isn’t a person in charge of the rebels. SWE culture is highly collective. I think we had to be—sharing resources was the only way to survive in such a poor landscape. There’s likely a committee, at least, but more probably it's a much larger group than that. Much is managed by consensus.”

Iroh stared at him. “SWE manages an army… by consensus? How does that even work?” The whole idea made his brain hurt. Without proper chain of command, it would be chaos.

“Why shouldn’t it work?” said Cuzon. “Many ideas are usually better than one. Look at us. Look at Raiko. If it had been the three of us making decisions by consensus, instead of the president calling the shots, would you and I be here now?”

Iroh stopped, thinking. “I suppose I never thought about it,” he said honestly. “In the Fire Nation we go mostly by age. We assume that, the older you are, the more you know, and therefore the greater your ability to make decisions. People like me, taking command at a young age, are actually rare. And I can tell you that not everyone from the Fire Nation liked the idea that I was made general, either.”

Cuzon said nothing to that. Instead, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of gold wire spectacles. He put them on, his pale green eyes magnified slightly, then peered down at the map. “Maybe I started too difficult. Let’s talk about the terrain first. We’ll get to customs later.”

Iroh nodded at Cuzon’s glasses, then smiled. “I see,” he said. 

“That makes one of us,” said Cuzon, his voice flat. “My vision is actually terrible. I hardly wear them, for the same reasons you mentioned, but you said you barely need yours. I’m not so lucky. I can see all right a couple of yards out, but anything closer than that is just contrasting colors. Where you’re sitting right now I know there’s a man, but that’s about it. And I definitely can't see any details. I actually rely a lot on my earthbending to help me get around.”

“Perhaps if decisions were made by consensus more United Forces officers could simply wear their glasses,” Iroh said with a smirk, then looked to the map. “So what am I looking at that I don’t already know?”

“The dust, for one. It’s July. The wind blows south. It’s the dry season. It’s always dry, mind you, but this time of year is the worst. That plus the wind means you’ll get a faceful of grit the whole way. You, and anyone marching with you, will need some kind of face and eye guard.”

“Reminds me of Fa Re,” Iroh said absently. “I was washing dirt out of my hair for days.”

“You’ve been to Fa Re?” Cuzon asked, surprised. “Not many people come to that part of the South. What happened in Fa Re of all places?” 

In fact, it was in Fa Re that he’d first thought perhaps Asami had more than friendly feelings for him. They’d had an unexpectedly fun afternoon at a little bar after a week of hard travel, then gotten into a bit of a scrape just outside of town. Iroh had taken the worst of it, and something about the way she’d looked at him as she’d helped patch him up afterwards had made him wonder, just for a moment, if she wanted him to kiss her. Or if maybe he should. But for a variety of reasons he hadn’t, and it had taken another two weeks and two-and-a-half thousand miles for he and Asami to finally sort out that his instincts had been right, and that kissing was very much what they both wanted to be doing. Iroh had sometimes wondered what might have been different if he had just made a move in Fa Re, before all the fighting and the misunderstandings that had plagued the remainder of their trip to the South Pole and back. Maybe nothing. Maybe quite a lot. But he wasn’t going to tell Cuzon any of that. Not a chance. 

“Just passed through once,” Iroh said. “Ran out of gas.”

Cuzon looked skeptical, as if reading more in Iroh’s eyes, but let it drop. “You’re not that far off. Most of SWE looks a lot like the area around Fa Re. We have a bit more sand, and the mountains to the north are quite a bit higher than the ones between Fa Re and Gao Ling, but the central hills where most of us live are very similar.”

“I figured, but it’s helpful to have a point of comparison. What else?”

They spent the morning like that, Cuzon expanding upon most of the things that Iroh had read about Southwest Earth Kingdom and the South in general, Iroh asking questions and mostly getting them answered. It wasn’t friendly, per se, but Iroh was surprised that the other man was as open as he was. A lot of the information was also incredibly helpful, especially once they got past topography and back into culture and history.

Apparently, what history books had left out was the fact that the 100-year war with the Fire Nation had contributed significantly to the current conditions in SWE. Previously an independent state specializing in copper and trade, it had been conquered by the growing Earth Kingdom some 200 years prior, but largely left alone. Though Fire Nation occupied territory had mostly been in the west and north, the need for a steady supply of soldiers, labor, and precious metals to continue the war had caused the Earth Kingdom to bleed areas in the east for generations. SWE, not having very much to begin with, had been decimated. When the war ended, the increase in industrialization across the Earth Kingdom and its trading partners, and the demand for copper and bronze that came with it, had only perpetuated the hardship. 

Iroh, who had always liked history and considered himself fairly well-informed, was shocked. None of the books in the Fire Nation said much about Southwest Earth Kingdom at all, and certainly not in the context of the war. And books published in the Earth Kingdom, like _A Complete History of the Southern Earth Kingdom,_ had been so narrowly focused on the region that they also hadn’t made the connection. SWE had simply been poor, and then it had been poorer. Either no one taught history in terms of its various interdependencies, or Earth Kingdom historians had been reluctant to call out their government’s role in exploiting their own people. Iroh would have believed either, or both. No wonder a man like Commander Cuzon thought a Fire Nation prince was lower than scum. It also made him wonder where Future Industries sourced their copper wires from.

After a few hours Iroh called a break. Cuzon decided to head to the officers’ wardroom for something to eat, but Iroh begged off. He wanted to try to reach Asami again. He was very surprised, and not a small bit worried, that no one had come to get him all morning with at least a message. Any storm should have passed hours ago. 

“Commander,” Iroh asked as they walked down the deck before parting ways, “can you think of any reason we should re-check the light mecha? Have you noticed any issues?”

Cuzon looked at him blankly. “No, I haven’t. We can do it, but it would take a lot of time. What’s wrong?”

Iroh shook his head. “I’m not sure. Nevermind. Don’t do anything yet.” Cuzon nodded. Iroh saw he’d put away his spectacles again. “Can I ask you something else though?”

“All right.”

“Do you think it can be done? What we’re trying, ending it without bloodshed. Do you think we can do it?”

Cuzon said nothing for a moment. Then he replied, “I don’t know. But I’m starting to think that I’d like to see you try.”


	57. IROH

“Tenzin!” 

“Who is this?” A deep voice crackled slightly through the speaker.

“Tenz, it’s Iroh. Thank the spirits at least someone is answering.”

“Iroh?” The airbender sounded surprised. Which he probably would be. Iroh had only gotten the frequency for Air Temple Island because he’d radioed RCCC first. “Aren’t you with the fleet? What’s going on?”

“I have no idea! Tenzin, listen. I can’t find Asami. I can’t find anyone. She radioed me on the emergency line last night, but it cut off after about a minute. Something about a storm. But I haven’t been able to raise her since, at least on the callback frequency she gave. I tried the RCCC, but she’s not there, either. I spoke to my chief of staff, and she said Asami had unexpectedly put in for a few days leave. She left a key to my flat and a note on Iameh’s desk asking her to feed Ling, but no explanation. I don’t understand.”

“Who is Ling?”

“My fish.”

“Fish?”

“I have a fish, Tenzin. A pet. Asami is caring for her while I’m gone. Or was.”

“With all of the animals associated with the noble element of fire you, a prince of the Fire Nation, picked one that is actually underwater—”

“ _Yes,_ I have a pet fish, Tenzin, and if it helps she’s an orange fish, but—spirits, that’s not the point! The point is, Asami is gone, and I have no idea where she went or how to reach her or if she’s all right. I’m going crazy. I only have the radio here, so I had Lt. Iameh make a couple of phone calls to our friends, but no one picked up. I’ve also had her dispatch someone out to Asami’s houses, but I doubt she’s there.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Lt. Iameh is in a wheelchair, remember? We have an elevator, but Bolin only lives ten blocks from us. If Asami asked Iameh to feed my fish instead of him, and no one is answering their phones, my guess is that you’re going to find all of Team Avatar is missing.”

“Tartar sauce!”

_“What?”_

“They’re not the only ones missing.” It took Iroh a half second to realize that “tartar sauce” was Tenzin’s idea of a swear. “One of the new airbenders was gone this morning, too. Opal Beifong. She and Bolin have been spending some time together.”

“It’s called dating, Tenz. I know you’re not _that_ old.”

Tenzin ignored him. “Where did they go?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Iroh then relayed what he’d managed to hear from Asami before she cut off.

“Hmm,” said Tenzin. “I don’t know that I can make any more of it than you have.” 

Iroh closed his eyes. He’d been holding out hope that either Korra had said something to Tenzin, or that the older man would hear something in Asami’s words that Iroh had missed. He rubbed at his temple, trying to think. “She sounded scared, Tenzin. And this is Asami we’re talking about. She’s not exactly timid. I’m trying not to worry too much, but I admit that I’m not having a lot of success.” 

“Did you check the mecha like she asked?”

“Of course. I had Commander Cuzon put someone on it this morning. Also a sweep of each of the ships looking for anything unusual. So far, nothing.”

“Good,” Tenzin said. “I’m sorry, Iroh. I don’t know what else I can tell you. If I learn anything, I’ll radio back as fast as I can.”

“Thank you.”

“And Iroh. Be careful. Asami Sato is probably the smartest person I know. I know how she feels about you, but I’ve rarely seen her overreact. I’m inclined to treat her message as a credible threat, whatever it may mean. Keep your guard up.”

“I will.” 

Iroh toggled off the radio, more disturbed than ever.


	58. ASAMI

Asami was in a terrible mood, and she knew it. Everyone else knew it, too, and was now tactfully avoiding her. It was probably for the best. 

She sat by herself at the very back of the gondola, closest to the engines, with the hopes that the steady droning noise would drown out her thoughts. It wasn’t working, but it helped in that it kept her from hearing whatever Korra, Mako, Bolin, Varrick, and Zhu Li were talking about on the other side of the ship. She knew they were talking about her, or talking about Iroh. And if they weren’t, then they should be, because saving Iroh was the only thing that mattered right now. The idea that anyone might have the patience for polite conversation when Iroh was in danger infuriated her. Which some small part of her recognized wasn’t fair, and was another reason why she was sitting alone.

Asami shifted her weight on the hard seat, trying to get more comfortable after an hour of sitting. The inside of Future Industries airships were nice. Her father had always had a taste for the lavish, and had insisted that riding on an airship wasn’t just a means of transport, but an experience. They had tall windows of curved green glass, real furniture, and gave the filer an overall sense of traveling in style. While Asami’s own aesthetic was more clean and functional, she hadn’t seen much reason to change her father’s designs, and Future Industries still turned out the beautiful, high-end airships on a regular basis. Varrick Industries airships, on the other hand, were… exactly like Varrick. On the outside they looked well enough, even fairly nice. But on the inside, Asami saw that they’d cut every corner imaginable. The main room of the airship barely even had any furniture, and what it did have was hard and cheap. Again, just like Varrick. 

She wondered if she’d ever be able to forgive the inventor for the part he had played, albeit unknowingly, in the scheme. Asami had a feeling it might depend a lot on what kind of state her fiancé was in when she caught up to him. If he was fine, she might be so relieved that she’d be more forgiving, not unlike after the South Pole. If he wasn’t… but she wasn’t going to think about that possibility. Iroh had to be fine. 

Asami shook her head, trying to think of something else. She was trying as hard as she could to stay level-headed and rational. That was what she did. It was what she was good at. And most importantly, anything else wasn’t helpful. But it was hard. She’d thought she’d been scared before, when she’d figured out the connections that had led her to Varrick and what it probably meant for the fleet. But that fear had only increased every time she tried to reach Iroh and couldn’t. The signal had to be jammed in some way—it was the only explanation for such a prolonged blackout. And when, blinded by her own anger, Korra had put the pieces together about her father that Asami couldn’t, that fear had become abject terror. 

After all, it made a twisted sort of sense. Hiroshi Sato had hated that she was dating “a firebending street rat” like Mako, though he had kept up the pleasant facade in order to throw off any suspicion that he was working with the Equalists. What must he think of Iroh then, _Prince Iroh II of the freaking Fire Nation,_ whose gallant actions against the Equalists had been splashed all over the papers following Amon’s defeat? While he was certainly no street rat, Iroh—young, attractive, powerful, and with a certain amount of celebrity—had become practically the poster child for firebenders in Republic City. If her father had somehow found out that he and Asami were not only dating, or sleeping together, or living together, but that Iroh actually intended to marry her, what then? Nearly all of her father's assets—his property, his fortune, Future Industries, and to some degree what had been left of his good name—had transferred to Asami when he went to prison. It was the work of a lifetime. If Asami might become Iroh’s, not just heart and soul, but legally… what might her father do to prevent that? She thought that the answer could be quite a lot, even if he no longer loved her at all. 

The timing lined up as well. Varrick said he hadn’t gotten any money from the Sato estate until just before the fleet departed, and that there hadn’t been any mention of her father by the other man, the one he’d met with, until then. That meant that it was possible her father wasn’t even involved until after Iroh had asked her to marry him, though she still had no idea how he would have known. But from there it wasn’t too hard to imagine a marriage of convenience—the person, or people, working to undermine the United Forces in SWE on behalf of the rebellion getting wind through various underground networks that a very wealthy man was looking for a way to eliminate the top general without suspicion, and her father agreeing to bankroll the remainder of the fake mecha in exchange for a guarantee that Iroh would never come home from SWE. 

It was one thing to understand that the entire mission had been compromised and set up to fail. It was another entirely to think that Iroh, specifically, was the target. Iroh, who was so kind and gentle, and only wanted to help people. Iroh, who had dedicated his life to service despite being born into privilege, and who had put his life on the line again and again on behalf of others. Iroh, who was going to be killed for the simple crime of loving her when no one else would, and of being loved with all her heart in return. It was enough to make her almost sick with fear, and not a small amount of guilt.

Yet now that they were on their way Asami found that there was little she could do to keep her terror in check. She’d thought briefly of waiting until morning to see if she could reach the fleet via the RCCC, but had ultimately decided that she couldn’t. If it turned out all signals were blocked, she’d have wasted precious hours that could have been spent getting to Iroh. But it meant there was no new information to be had. No new clues to puzzle out. There was only the waiting.

She huffed and got to her feet, trying to think of something to distract herself from terrible visions of arriving too late, of the whole world shattering. She made her way down a short flight of stairs into the very back of the gondola where there was a kind of storage area that doubled as a kitchen. Asami started rifling through the bags of food she’d packed for the journey, looking for a snack, the chocolatier the better. When in doubt, eat your feelings. She pulled out a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and tore them open, then paused. Iroh liked chocolate pretzels. She cursed to herself, then ate one anyway. She’d just save him some. Because he was going to be fine, and he was going to need chocolate pretzels, because he was going to be fine… 

Before Asami could stop herself, she was crying. She turned her face into the crook of her arm, trying to keep it quiet. The only thing she hated worse than crying was crying in front of people. Iroh had been the only person she’d let see her cry since her father’s sentencing.

“Are you okay?” Asami nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d been sure she was alone. She whirled around, but saw no one. 

“Who’s there?” she asked. 

“Don’t be mad,” said the voice again. But Asami was paying attention this time, and was able to pinpoint the sound. She looked around quickly and grabbed the first weapon she saw, a dinner knife someone had left out on the counter. It was smeared with what looked like peanut butter. Then Asami stalked over to a side door that led to the airship’s tiny bathroom. The little sign above the lock read, “Occupied.” She took a step back, breathed in, then kicked in the door.

“Ahh!” The accordion door flapped open, the lock snapping with a click. Asami lunged forwards, brandishing the peanut butter knife as a body that had been standing behind the door fell back with a crash. It landed seated on the closed toilet, then looked up. Terrified green eyes stared up at her from a heart-shaped face framed by short brown hair.

Asami froze. “Opal?” Bolin’s girlfriend was about the last person she’d expected to be hiding in the bathroom of Varrick’s airship. “Opal, what the hell?”

“I’m sorry, don’t stab me!” Opal cried. She held up one hand to shield her face. “I know that I should have asked but I was afraid you’d say no! I just want to help!”

Asami recovered enough to lower the knife. She held out a hand to Opal and pulled her up, then stepped back into the kitchen. “But how did you know where we were?”

Opal smiled hesitantly. “Bolin. We were supposed to see each other this weekend. He came to tell me he was canceling because he had to leave town. I… I gave him a hard time about it. So he told me that he was meeting you at Varrick Industries and that Team Avatar had to go save General Iroh, and I followed him. Please don’t be mad at him, it was my fault. I think he only told me all that because he thought I’d be angry if he wasn’t honest.”

“And you decided to come? Why?”

“I thought I could help." Opal was speaking fast, as if rushing to get her story out before Asami changed her mind about attacking her. "Team Avatar, this Team Avatar, doesn’t have an airbender. I mean, you have Korra of course, but I thought you could use someone who was… a more enthusiastic airbender. And Iroh was nice to me. When we met at the beach, for his goodbye party. I didn’t know him from anyone, but even with all this hanging over his head and it being his party and stuff he went out of his way to include me. Said he knew how it felt to have everyone else know each other and be the new one, because he’d been there.”

Asami smiled at that. It sounded exactly like something Iroh would do. It’s what Asami herself should have done, but she’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she hadn’t. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure if she’d talked to Opal at the party at all. She looked around the kitchen and saw the open bag of chocolate pretzels. Had she really been hiding back here, crying and eating alone? She really had to work on not being so self-absorbed when she was upset.

Opal saw the smile and seemed to relax. “So you’re not going to stab me?”

Asami shook her head. “No, I’m not going to stab you. I’m not even mad. It’s actually really nice that you wanted to help. Spirits, Opal, I’ll take all the help I can get. Come on. Let’s go tell the others. I think it’s high time I stopped sulking and started planning.”

Opal smiled, then started for the stairs. Asami made to follow her, then stopped. She turned back, grabbed the bag of chocolate pretzels, then followed Opal up to the main deck. When Iroh got home, she’d buy him a whole closet full.


	59. IROH

“Is that everything?”

“Yes, General Iroh.” Iroh nodded, then climbed down the ladder into the small boat. Waves slapped against the side, but as heavily laden as it was, it barely moved under his weight. He’d made sure that he was the last thing to be loaded, just in case. _Let’s load up General Iroh,_ he thought. _Like another box. Spirits, that’s just what I’ve felt like most of this mission. But finally, if I’m very lucky, maybe I can do some good._

There were 14 of them altogether on the early morning expedition to try Iroh’s diplomacy approach, plus gear and supplies for two weeks. Iroh figured he would most likely know if he was successful after less than a day, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. With everything that Commander Cuzon had told him about SWE, he felt strongly that it was best to go in with too much in the way of food and equipment rather than too little. The residents had little to offer should their delegation run short of supplies, and the landscape around them perhaps less than that. He and Cuzon had handpicked the group themselves: three officers that the commander knew well, all earthbenders and all from SWE—including the young lieutenant who had first delivered Asami’s message—and nine nonbender men and women that Iroh felt had been top of the class in his smacker training. The logic was that, this way, they would be the most prepared while also looking the least threatening, although Iroh knew the lack of any waterbending was a calculated risk. Keeping in mind his history, it also brought the number of people who looked like invaders from the Fire Nation down to only one: Iroh himself. 

To Iroh’s surprise Cuzon had left Lieutenant Commander Yonemura Ano in charge of the fleet in their absence. Commander Ano, while not a friend, had been one of the few officers Iroh had actually known aboard ship. From a long line of Fire Nation nobles, she had been in the United Forces almost as long as Iroh had been alive. She had also, incidentally, been one of the people Iroh had thought of when he’d told Cuzon that not everyone in the Fire Nation had been pleased with his promotion to general. But she was an excellent officer, if a little by-the-book, and Iroh was pleased with the appointment. He’d been nervous about leaving someone he didn’t know in charge. She might not like him, but if something bad happened, Commander Ano would get them out.

He’d let Cuzon and his officers outfit the expedition as well, deciding what to bring and issuing a packing list to everyone on the trip. Once all of the bags and crates were loaded it had seemed like a lot of supplies to Iroh, but he had to believe that Cuzon and the officers from SWE were in the best position to know what was needed. Iroh himself had packed light. It was going to be hot, and more importantly it was going to be dangerous. If they had to beat a quick retreat, he didn’t want to have to worry about leaving anything important behind. His only strictly unnecessary possessions were a book for downtime ( _A General History of the Western Pirates_ ), the picture of him and Asami, and his electric smacker, which he’d moved to a pocket of his jacket in case his pants got wet landing on the beach. He’d be no good to anyone if he accidentally electrocuted himself before he even arrived. 

It all made for a tight fit in the little boat. As a result though, everyone but Iroh and Cuzon had to sit on the gear for the hour-long trip to the beach. Iroh hated the idea of being comfortable when others weren’t, but it was show time now, and he was no longer only Iroh. He was the General of the United Forces, and if he expected anyone to listen to him he was going to have to act like it, even if it meant sitting in the seat at the front of the boat like an asshole.

Cuzon took the seat next to him as they pushed off. Iroh thought he looked tense. But tense was better than angry, or disgusted, or most of the other emotions he was used to seeing on his face. Under the circumstances, it was a definite improvement. Iroh smiled at the thought, then turned so he was facing forwards. The boat gave another lurch, then started to bump and roll its way to the beach beneath the cliffs that marked the border of SWE. Iroh’s stomach rolled with it. It was clear, but windy, and it promised to be a rough ride. He’d skipped breakfast just in case. 

“This is it,” said Iroh, risking a glance aside. Cuzon pressed his lips together in a thin line, but said nothing. Acting on impulse, Iroh turned in his seat and held out his hand. Cuzon hesitated for a long moment, then grasped it. “Thank you,” Iroh said as they shook, “for everything. Whatever happens, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Cuzon shook his head sharply. “Don’t say that.” 

“I mean it, Commander. If we’re successful, it will be in large part because of you. I know we’ve had our differences, but for the first time since we left Republic City I’m proud of what we’re doing here. I hope that you can be, too.”

Cuzon gave him a tight smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. _He’s more nervous than I am,_ Iroh thought. But after all, that was only natural. As both a son of SWE and a member of the United Forces, Cuzon would be walking on a tightrope. After all, he still had family in the region. For all Iroh knew, the commander might wind up having to help negotiate with his own kin on behalf of a foreign power.

Cuzon turned away, gazing instead at the approaching cliffs. Iroh did the same, grateful to be facing forwards again. The bottle-green sea continued to roll, stiff whitecaps sending a fine spray into the wind. It seemed that more than a year of being grounded at the RCCC had completely ruined his sea legs. He’d have to come up with some kind of conditioning routine for that when he got back.

After a while, Commander Cuzon spoke. “Some men would risk everything for what they believe in,” he said quietly. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, I think you might be one of them, General.”

Iroh felt the corner of his mouth tick up. It was the first time Cuzon had used his title with anything like respect. “I think you might be as well, Commander. Let’s hope that’s enough to turn the tide.”

“It’s a beautiful country, Iroh,” Cuzon said, still facing the beach. “It might not look like much to an outsider, but it is. I hope… I hope that once we get there you’ll understand.”

Iroh could sort of see what he meant. The cliffs above the beach were of a pale stone that shone golden in the early morning light, the sky above a dusty cloudless blue. The beach itself was almost pure white against the oddly green water, as nice as any he’d seen on Ember Island. If it hadn’t been so remote, and the ocean so cold, he could even imagine it as a quiet getaway. Perhaps a honeymoon. Spirits, maybe he’d do it anyway if they could stop the fighting. He and Asami could take the plane and go camping again, spend their days on the beach, building big fires at night to keep off the chill. No RCCC. No Raiko. No _Republic City Press,_ page six. No General of the United Forces or President of Future Industries. Just Asami and Iroh, two people of no particular importance except to each other, making love in the sand in the gathering twilight. 

Iroh shook his head. He needed to focus. There would be plenty of time for that later. 

The little boat picked up speed, making its way towards the coast of the Southwest Earth Kingdom.


	60. IROH

Iroh was the first off the boat, splashing down into shallow water. A wave hit him almost immediately, soaking him up to his thighs, and he was grateful he’d moved the smacker. The others followed, and together they pulled the heavy boat ashore as best they could. But they unloaded nothing, as if they had no intention of staying. Instead, Iroh set about to wait. He rifled through his bag and found the thin brown book he’d brought, then leaned casually against the edge of the boat and started to read. He hadn’t brought his glasses, but that was all right. He really did barely need them, and only got headaches if he was at it a while. If everything Commander Cuzon had said was true, he wouldn’t have that long to wait. 

But he wasn’t wrong. After less than an hour, Iroh noticed a plume of dust rising from an area on the cliffs to his right. It made its way down the slope, eventually resolving into what looked like a group of people walking down a steep path. Iroh studied them for a moment, then continued to read his book. It was hard to concentrate, but he did as best he could. If he didn’t get this part right, they’d never leave the beach. 

As the group approached Iroh saw there were a dozen of them, a mix of men and women who seemed anywhere from Iroh’s age to well into their 60s. They were barefoot, and dressed in loose-fitting clothes in various shades of brown. As Cuzon had himself recommended, each man or woman sported a kind of scarf or wrap around their neck that Iroh assumed could be pulled up into a protective face covering. The look reminded him a little of the sandbender tribes he’d met on his first tour with the United Forces into the Earth Kingdom’s interior, and his hand instinctively went to his left side. That hadn’t been a good trip, and he had the scars to prove it. But thankfully none of the newcomers were sporting the kinds of long, hooked blades that still, all these years later, made him a bit uncomfortable.

Iroh kept reading until the group was only ten feet away, then looked up, feigning unconcern. “Good morning,” he said, scanning the group, making it clear that he was including all of them in the greeting. 

A short, round woman with thick dark curls and Commander Cuzon’s pale green eyes stepped forwards. She could have been anywhere from 40 to 60, her lined face rough from the sun and wind. “Good morning,” she said. “I am Speaker Jashan. Who are you, and why are you here?” Like Iroh, she was clearly addressing their entire group. So far, so good.

Iroh inclined his head. “I am Iroh, of the United Forces, acting on behalf of the United Republic of Nations.” He then allowed the other members of the group to introduce themselves in a similar fashion. “I am Speaker for this group,” Iroh said when they were done. “We are here seeking a peaceful end to the conflict, and wish to talk with you at your convenience.” He then reopened his book. At this point he was hardly reading, but he tried to give the impression that he had all of the time in the world.

The two groups stood in complete silence for what must have been three solid minutes. Then, Iroh heard the voice of Speaker Jashan again. “We will speak with you on this. Would you like to come with us now?”

Iroh shook his head, not looking up. “No, that is quite all right. We will wait until a better time.”

“I assure you it is no trouble. Please follow us, and we can discuss.”

“I assure _you,_ we are fine waiting. I myself am learning a lot about the ancient pirates of this area.” Iroh held up his book a little so that she could read the title. “It’s really quite interesting, and as you can see I’m only at the beginning of the book.” 

Iroh glanced up to see Speaker Jashan smiling, and he was convinced that this time it was for him and not for the group. “What you call pirates, we simply call traders. Speaker Iroh, I insist. It is no trouble. I invite you and your colleagues to come with us.”

Iroh nodded, marked his place in the book, and tucked it into his jacket. “Very well,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “Thank you.” He turned back to the boat, shouldered his light pack, then grabbed one of the boxes and tried to pull it out. It was shockingly heavy, and his shoulder and back screamed in protest. Iroh was probably one of the stronger members of the group under ordinary circumstances, but the beating he’d taken during the Agni Kai was still relatively fresh. What on earth had Cuzon packed? But there was no going back now, as any box he put down would just have to be carried by somebody else and he couldn’t appear to be shirking work. Iroh gritted his teeth and pulled at the box again, managing to tip it over the edge and into his arms. The others did likewise, as did the members of the party from SWE. Iroh made no objection. Once having decided to work towards a common objective, it would apparently be rude to imply that they would carry nothing. 

Between the 26 of them they were able to distribute the supplies fairly well, and began the long hike up the cliffs. It was steep and slow going. Iroh was grateful they’d decided to come so early in the morning; the sun was rising fast, and it was already hot. He’d worn full dress for the occasion in order to convey the appropriate amount of respect, but that meant that pretty soon he’d be sweating through every layer. The United Forces uniforms were clearly not designed for a firebender hiking in the desert. 

Sweat was already beading on Iroh’s forehead, but with both of his arms around the heavy box he had no way of wiping it off. He glanced down the side of the sheer cliff and swallowed. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but there was no question that it was a long way down. He shook his head slightly, hoping to shake off anything that might drip into his eyes and make it harder to stay on the path. But the motion pulled at Iroh’s already straining left shoulder, and he let out a grunt of pain. He’d have to remember to ask Cuzon if he had brought more of that aspirin.

“You’re injured,” said a soft voice behind him. “But you carry anyway.” Iroh turned his head, careful not to lose his footing, to see a woman from the SWE group. He put her in her mid-30s, a bit on the heavy side, with medium brown hair that fell straight about her face. Unlike Speaker Jashan, the constant southern sun seemed to only have freckled her pale skin. 

“I do as I am able,” said Iroh. It was another line that Cuzon had taught him. 

The woman looked at him, as if considering his answer. “And you are Iroh?” she asked. 

Iroh didn’t know what that meant. He’d clearly introduced himself. “Yes, I am. What’s your name?”

“Kjyn,” she said. Like Jashan, she pronounced what Iroh thought was probably a “j” as a “y” sound, making it sound something like “Kyeen.” Iroh had always liked languages, and had probably spent too much time looking into the SWE dialect. 

“Pleased to meet you, Kjyn,” he said, trying to get the pronunciation right, and smiled. Kjyn didn’t smile back. _Tough crowd._

Iroh made the rest of the climb in silence. When they finally arrived at the top of the cliff, he was surprised to see a large number of ostrich horses tethered to a long line that had been staked into the dirt. The large animals were taller than he was, with big feathered heads and talons as long as his side knife. Though they weren’t native to the Fire Nation, Iroh had of course seen them before. But he’d never seen them in such a variety of colors; dark and light brown, golden, spotted blue-gray, reddish, and deep black. He supposed it made sense though. In a sparsely populated area such as SWE, with few roads and even fewer vehicles, ostrich horses and similar animals must still be bred widely.

The surprising part therefore wasn’t that the party from SWE had ridden to the cliffs instead of walked. From what Iroh understood, they were several miles from the nearest settlement. It was that they had brought so many. There were nearly twice as many of the animals as members of Jashan’s group, and what looked like a flat sand sledge as well. This was no scouting party then. They’d clearly seen the fleet and guessed its purpose, and brought enough animals to bring back guests.

Speaker Jashan did not lead them over to the ostrich horses, however. Instead, she started down the gentle rise that led into a kind of depression. The land above the sea was mostly flat, but for whatever reason the area where the path came out was not. Jashan set down the equipment that she’d been helping to carry, and the other members of her group started to do the same. _She must want to use that as a staging area,_ Iroh thought. He took one last look at the fleet, which from this height seemed like so many toy boats in the glittering green sea, then drudged down the rise towards Jashan. He squatted and put down the heavy box and his pack, grimacing at the ache in his lower back, then stood. 

Iroh stretched and snuck one hand behind his back, trying to massage himself a little without anyone seeing. It wasn’t a good time to show weakness, and the fact that the woman, Kjyn, had picked out that he was injured inside of the first 15 minutes was a little unnerving. Maybe he really was getting old. Truthfully, Iroh had no idea how someone Yonemura Ano’s age had the energy for a job in the Forces, or even Commander Bumi for that matter. Maybe they didn’t pick quite so many fights though. Iroh dug his fingers into his lower back and he felt the hard knot of the bruise, like someone had tried to hide an egg under his skin. But poking it didn’t seem to help. It was a shame he was so far from home. Asami gave great massages.

“Speaker Jashan,” he said, giving up and withdrawing his hand. “How may we assist?” Jashan turned to face him, then set her feet. Iroh spent a lot of time later thinking about this exact moment. About why he didn’t see it. He’d fought hundreds of people, probably, from sparring with his brothers at age five to the chaotic melees of the front lines with the United Forces, and he had always had quick reflexes besides. Maybe it was because he was tired, and his back hurt. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had as much practice with earthbenders. But he didn’t think so. Ultimately, he thought it was because he was prejudiced. Speaker Jashan was short, round, old, and a woman. In the end, he simply hadn’t believed what he was seeing. Iroh never knew many people paid with their life because of that half-second of hesitation. 

Behind him, someone shouted. “Now!” Jashan waved her arms and a tornado of dirt and sand whirled up in the space between her and Iroh. Then it shot towards him in a cloud so dark it was almost solid. Iroh heard another shout. He quickly bent his knees and jumped, but instead of pushing fire out of his feet in a way that might have cleared the blast of sand, he raised his right arm and forced every ounce of fire he had from his closed fist. A lance of orange flame as thick as his arm and nearly as straight shot up into the cloudless sky. 

The dirt hit Iroh full-on in the face, blinding him, choking him. Too late he tried to block it, but he could neither see nor breathe. He tried to turn and shield his face, but something hard hit him in the side with enough force to knock him sprawling. There were more yells now, and screams as well. He saw the flash of fire off to his left, probably one of the smackers. Then the ground rose up around him, trapping him in darkness. 

***

“I assure you, he is secure. He can cut metal, but no firebender in the world can melt stone. And I’ve removed anything dangerous he had on him.”

It was completely dark. Iroh sat crouched on the ground, four walls around him meeting in a point above his head. There wasn’t enough room to stand, he’d tried, but he could move a little. Slowly, Iroh rolled his hands and filled his palms with the faintest fire he could create. It coated his hands in a soft glow no brighter than a single candle flame. He didn’t think any light could get out, seeing as none could get in, but he wanted to be careful anyway. He didn’t know if the muffled voices outside knew that he was conscious, or even alive. 

Still, it was enough to get his bearings, such as they were. He was inside what appeared to be a stone pyramid. Iroh leaned his back against one of the walls and pushed, but was unsurprised when nothing happened. He was trapped.

“Yes, but why is he in there at all? Your instructions were clear, and the trade was fair.”

“I know. But I’ve been thinking. We have further use of him, and it would be a shame to waste. He’s valuable. All that was required is that he not return. We’ve gone back on nothing.”

“You have no authority to change the plan, Cuzon.”

 _Cuzon?_ A feeling like a cold knife slipping into his heart. 

“And _you_ are not the committee, Jashan, no matter that they made you Speaker. I would discuss it with all. Until then, he lives.”

“And the signal?”

“That was unfortunate. A man who would warn others rather than shield himself is rare, but I admit I should have seen it. Still, it changes nothing. Ano will come, and we will be ready.”

“Very well. I disagree, but you are right that I am not the committee. We need to go. But you are responsible for him. That is a burden that we cannot share.”

“Fine. I’ll handle it.”

Iroh felt the ground beneath him shake, then begin to shift. A moment later stone bubbled up from between the cracks in the dirt. That was the only way he could describe it. It wasn’t molten, but it flowed somehow anyway. This was very advanced earthbending; Iroh had never seen anything like it. In a flash of insight he braced himself against the sides of the pyramid with his arms and then jumped, pressing his knees to the walls so that he was suspended in mid air. The fire in his hands went out. Iroh held out as long as he could, until his arms began to shake, then carefully lowered himself down. The floor was now solid. He re-lit the fire and saw that the bottom of the pyramid was now smooth, flawless stone.

Suddenly his box began to shake. The floor made a grinding noise, almost as if the whole pyramid were sliding along the dirt. Which, Iroh supposed, was probably exactly what was happening. 

They were taking him.


	61. ASAMI

Opal stopped at the top of the stairs. She glanced back at Asami, her green eyes suddenly unsure. “What do I say?” she whispered. 

Asami stepped past her. She saw that the others were seated in a rough circle across the bay, there not being any way to move the bolted-down chairs together. She smiled, then cupped her hand to her mouth. “Oy! Bolin!” she called from the stairs. “I found something of yours!” 

Bolin, whose back was to them, turned around. His head jerked back in surprise. “Opal?” 

Opal waved shyly. “Er. Hi, everybody. I’m—”

“Our airbender,” Asami cut in. She hooked one arm around Opal’s elbow and strode across the room, towing the girl in her wake. She weighed almost nothing. It suddenly struck Asami that all of her friends were super buff. Mako, Bolin, and Korra had all been pro-benders, and even though the Fire Ferrets were on hiatus none of them had slacked off the training much. And Iroh wasn’t exactly dainty. Korra had often joked that Asami had a thing for firebenders, but apparently she just liked jocks, and was used to being able to bodily haul all of her friends around. The thought made her almost laugh, but she also slowed, easing up on Opal’s arm. 

“Where did _she_ come from?” said Korra, mostly to Asami. She put her cards face-down and hopped to her feet. “Opal, what on earth?”

“She wants to help.” Having almost stabbed Opal in the bathroom, Asami was trying to make this as un-awkward as possible. “That’s good enough for me.”

“We can’t bring her,” said Mako, folding his hand as well. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll have to turn around.”

“Shut up, Mako,” said Asami and Bolin at the same time. They stared at each other. Then Bolin started to laugh. To her surprise, after a moment Asami started laughing, too. It felt good. 

“I’m serious!” said Mako from the floor, looking from his brother to Asami and back again.

“I am, too,” Asami said, quieting. “We don’t have time to go back. It’s my mission, it’s my Iroh, and everyone on this ship has agreed to be here. I need all of you. It’s done, Mako.” 

Varrick chimed in, pointing a finger at Asami. “Actually, I—”

“ _Varrick._ ” She glared at him. “You know where the door is. But I need all the parachutes. Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?” Varrick shut his mouth with a snap. “That's better.”

“So, how can I help?” said Opal brightly, any nervousness apparently forgotten. She settled down next to Bolin on the floor and crossed her legs. “I know I’m new at airbending, but I know a lot already.”

“I can try to give you a crash course,” said Korra. She glanced at Asami and shrugged slightly, then sat down again between Mako and Varrick and tucked her legs under her. “There won’t be much time to practice, but I can think of a few things that might be helpful.”

“Actually, that’s not what I had in mind,” Asami said. Opal looked up at her. Actually, everyone did. For the first time, it really struck Asami that she was in charge. She’d said it often enough, mostly to shut Varrick up and to keep Mako from fussing, but apparently it was actually true. Even though Korra was the Avatar, everyone was looking to her for direction. What happened next, and whether any of this worked, was in her hands. And if she guessed wrong, her next move could cost Iroh his life.

Asami folded her hands behind her back and stood up a little straighter. It’s what she’d seen Iroh do when talking to soldiers. “Opal, what I need is for you to tell us how to fight metalbenders,” she said. “How to fight them, and win.”

***

Asami shifted her weight, then kicked out one leg slowly. It tingled with sleep. She’d been sitting for too long, it seemed. She glanced around the open bay of the gondola, but all seemed well. Everyone else was absorbed in the tasks she had given them. 

She had to admit that it wasn’t much of a plan. Mostly because she had no idea what to plan for. With communications cut off, they had no way of knowing where the fleet was, or if anything had happened yet. Asami had also tried to radio RCCC with the radio she had stolen—ok, borrowed under duress—from Varrick’s penthouse, but had gotten the same dead air as when she’d repeatedly tried the fleet. And it turned out that was the end of the people she knew how to reach. The radio worked fine, and she could get random signals, but she hardly ever used radio comms and had only been briefly trained on it for work. She could probably build a radio, but she had no idea how to reach anyone in particular without instructions. To her frustration, this still meant that she knew the most of anyone in their group.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she’d snapped at Korra when she’d finally thought to try their mutual acquaintances. “How could you not know?”

“Why would I radio my own house, Asami? I’m sorry, I have no idea how to reach Air Temple Island by radio. Or Katara, or anyone else. We usually just pick up the phone.”

Asami didn’t have a good answer to that. She knew it wasn’t Korra’s fault, and that she was mostly angry at herself. But as a result, all they could do was start with finding the fleet somewhere off the coast of SWE while trying to prepare for whatever other scenarios might be likely.

She glanced behind her at where Korra stood across the open area with Opal. The Avatar took a step back, then seemed to sort of slide her upper body forwards. At the same time she extended her hands, crossing her arms as she did so. A twisting current of air shot from the tips of her fingers. It was similar to firebending, yet also totally different. Firebending, especially from someone classically trained like Iroh or Korra, was all grace and power, with long, fluid movements. Airbending used similar movements, but was quicker and lighter somehow, with more twists and spins. Asami hadn’t seen much in the way of airbending training, and it was fascinating to watch.

“Like that,” Korra said, turning to Opal. “It gives it a bit of a spin, and is good for throwing people off-balance.” Opal nodded, then tried the move herself. She didn’t get it quite right, but it was close. 

Asami wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to be the Avatar. To have that kind of power at your fingertips, to be able to bend _anything_. Asami had always tried to be okay with having been born a non-bender, and had mostly succeeded. But sometimes being the best friend of the Avatar was hard, and being the only non-bender in their group even harder. She’d found it mostly came out in situations like this, when someone was in danger and all of a sudden she felt powerless. Like at the airfield, when she’d faced her father for the last time. Bolin was tearing up the runway with his earthbending, sending boulders at the Equalists right and left, and Iroh had run and launched himself into the air to actually take down freaking planes, and she’d… what? Eventually she’d jumped in a mecha tank and joined the fray, but at first she’d simply thought, what am I even doing here? And really, without a mecha tank or her glove or the smackers or anything, what did she, Asami, have to offer?

She’d asked Korra once about whether or not she’d been interested in Iroh, but she’d never had the guts to ask Iroh about Korra. Mako had picked Korra, after all. She didn’t believe for a minute that Iroh didn’t love her, or that there was ever any real interest there. But sometimes she wondered why. Korra was a lot of things Asami was—pretty, smart, tough, determined. It was one of the reasons they were such good friends. But Korra was also so much more. She was a bender, and the Avatar at that. And she had a family who loved her, and Tenzin and Katara and others besides. Her job, her whole existence, was to help people. Everyone was in her corner. And Asami had what? A father in prison for treason, a lot of baggage, and a company that made things that killed people. 

Asami pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then reached over and grabbed another handful of the chocolate-covered pretzels out of the bag. She had to stop thinking like this. Iroh had once told her that she had courage and strategic ability, and that those were more important than any bending. And Iroh was usually right. She’d have to trust him.

“You’ll never hold down a man if you keep eating like that,” said Varrick. He was seated a few feet from her, a welding mask pulled down over his face. His voice echoed a little. “I have Zhu Li count mine. I’m allowed five snacks per day. It’s why I’m so attractive.” 

Asami threw a pretzel at him. It bounced off his mask with a clink, then skittered across the floor near some cabinets. She popped the rest of the pretzels into her mouth, grabbed the wiring, and got back to work.

Suddenly she heard a chirp. Asami looked up sharply just in time to see the chocolate pretzel disappear under the cabinets. She narrowed her eyes, then got carefully to her feet, stamping the sleep out of her leg a bit as she went. She walked slowly, quietly over to the cabinets, then knelt down and peered underneath. 

Two big golden eyes stared back at her from the space under the cabinet. “Ah!” Asami jerked backwards and fell on her butt, then scrambled away. She heard a soft chitter from the darkness, then a white muzzle poked out from beneath the cabinet. 

_“Pabu?”_ Bolin’s voice from across the room. At the sound of his name Pabu stuck his whole head out, the white nose giving way to the soft russet fur that was the hallmark of fire ferrets. Asami glanced from Bolin to Pabu, then back to Bolin. From the expression on her friend’s face, he was just as surprised as she was.

“What, is everyone I know hidden on the airship now?” Bolin said. He stalked over, shaking one finger. “Bad Pabu! What are you doing here?” The little fire ferret cocked his head, then chittered softly again. 

Bolin’s face melted, and he squatted down and opened his arms. “Aw, I’m sorry. Come here buddy.” Pabu chirped and trotted forwards, then climbed up Bolin’s arm and onto his shoulder. Bolin grabbed him and pulled him down into a hug. Pabu squeaked, then clawed his way back onto Bolin’s shoulder. “Ow, hey, okay.” Bolin patted him and smiled.

“How did Pabu get here?” Mako asked, walking over from where he’d been packing the canisters. 

“Probably followed Opal,” Bolin said, giving Pabu a scratch behind the ear. “I left him with Jinora when I went to say goodbye. He never did get ‘stay’ as a command though.”

“Do you think that’s everyone?” Asami asked. She propped herself up from where she’d fallen over, then called out, “If anyone else is on the ship, can you just come out now?” 

Thankfully, no one answered.


	62. IROH

The girl was perhaps five or six years old. Iroh didn’t know how she’d gotten into the tent he was in. He couldn’t exactly move very much, and the doorway seemed to be behind him. 

“Hello, what’s your name?” he asked. His voice came out a little cracked. Iroh had done a lot of yelling over the last day, mostly on principle. He didn’t expect anyone to let him out, but that didn’t mean he intended to go quietly.

“Illea,” she said. If she was surprised to see a man trapped in a stone pyramid, she didn’t show it. Someone had eventually removed just enough of the top for Iroh to poke his head through. He’d tried sticking an arm out and firebending, but then he couldn’t see and it hadn’t resulted in much more than sparks. Within the pyramid, there wasn’t enough room to do much more than make a little light. Whoever had trapped him had done their homework on firebenders.

“Nice to meet you, Illea. I’m Iroh.”

“Hi.”

Illea sat down in the dirt in front of the pyramid. There wasn’t much in the tent, which was perhaps ten feet wide and shaped like a tipi, just a couple of boxes and bare floor. She pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears in a way that reminded him achingly of Asami, then rubbed her hands together. She moved them in a small circle and a block of dirt about two inches wide separated itself from the floor. Illea moved it over and set it carefully down, then shaped another and stacked it on top.

Iroh watched, interested. He’d always liked earthbending, and there wasn’t anything else to do. No one had been by since they’d left him early that morning. By the shadows, it was almost dusk.

“You should put more on the bottom, Illea,” Iroh said after she had balanced her third block. “Next to the first one. You can go higher that way.” The little girl looked at him, then moved her hands again and floated the fourth block down to the first.

“Right, just like that. Now get two more and put them next to those. Be sure to get them snug.” What the hell. He didn’t have anything else to do. Illea nodded, then did as he said. The blocks weren’t perfectly square, but they were close. “Okay,” he said. “Now we can go up.”

They continued like that for a while, Illea shaping blocks out of the brown dirt of the floor of the hut and Iroh more or less directing their placement. Before long they’d assembled a tower about two feet high. It was starting to look rather precarious, but he thought they might be able to get as much as another foot if she was careful. 

“Mr. Iroh,” said Illea, not looking at him. “Why are you sad?”

Spirits, kids didn’t miss much. “What makes you think I’m sad? Besides that I’m sitting in a box, that is.”

“You look sad.” She placed another block carefully on the tower. “My mom is sad sometimes, too. She doesn’t tell me why either, but I can tell.”

Iroh thought for a moment. There was always a chance that the kid had been sent in to try to pump him for information. He had to be careful. At the same time, it wasn’t like there was anyone else to talk to. “I’m scared for some friends of mine,” he said finally. “And there’s someone I miss.” Iroh thought briefly of Ikki, Tenzin’s daughter, who was about the same age. “She was going to be a princess.”

Illea looked up at him. Her eyes were the same color green as Asami’s. “And now she isn’t?” 

“I don’t think so. No.”

“Why can’t she be a princess?” Illea was frowning now. Clearly this was very concerning.

Iroh sighed. He rested his chin on the edge of the stone. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. Because there was a prince that she was going to marry, and she was going to become a princess with him. But he went away. And I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“Why isn’t he coming back?”

“I… it’s hard to explain. He… he went to fight a dragon, I guess you can say. But he wasn’t good enough, and the dragon got him.”

“Did he get eaten?” Illea’s eyes were wide now. 

Iroh couldn’t help it. He laughed. She looked so serious. “Not yet.”

“Then why doesn’t the princess go save him?”

“I don’t think she knows where he is. And even if she could find him, there’s still the dragon. He wouldn’t want her to get hurt. Not ever.”

Illea placed another block gently on top of the tower, then reached her hand into the pocket of her lavender dress and pulled out a brown paper bag. She reached one small hand inside, pulled out a biscuit of some kind, and stuffed it unceremoniously into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, then looked at Iroh. “Would you like a cookie, Mr. Iroh?” she asked. 

Iroh’s stomach rumbled. They hadn’t given him anything to eat, and he’d skipped breakfast that morning because of his seasickness. “All right,” he said, nodding. “That’s very nice of you.” Illea stood and walked over, reached into the bag again, and pulled out another of the brown cookies. Not being able to move his arms, Iroh opened his mouth. She placed it carefully inside, then backed away again. It turned out to be pretty good. A little dry, but sweet, and with a hint of some spice or other of which he was unfamiliar. “Thank you, Illea,” he said once he’d swallowed. He wished he had something to drink.

Illea nodded. “You’re welcome, Mr. Iroh,” she said. She put the paper bag back into her pocket, then sat down and shaped another block.

“Illi, no! Get away from him!” A shout from the doorway behind him. Iroh looked up to see Commander Cuzon rush in. He grabbed Illea under the arms and dragged her backwards and out of the tent. One of her feet hit the tower and it fell, collapsing into a pile of dirt on the floor.

“What were you doing to her?” Cuzon hissed a moment later. Iroh could hear Illea crying, the sound fading as she went, or was marched, elsewhere.

“You thought I would hurt a child? We were making a tower. She gave me a cookie. Everyone is fine, I promise.”

Cuzon frowned at him. Iroh saw he’d put his glasses back on.

“Yours?” Iroh asked.

“My niece. She’s entirely too trusting.”

“You could learn a lot from her.” Iroh smiled a little. “I was going to be an uncle soon myself. I was looking forward to it.”

Cuzon’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, was going to be?”

“I’m not stupid, Cuzon. I serve no strategic purpose. Raiko barely wants me back; I’m certainly not valuable enough to extract concessions from the Republic. You can offer me to the Fire Nation, and I like to believe they’d think about it. But if you’re trying to get them to recognize SWE independence in exchange for my life they won’t do it. My mother loves me very much, but that would mean war with the Earth Kingdom, and likely the United Republic as well, and she won’t do it.” In truth, Iroh wasn’t entirely sure of this, but he tried to be as convincing as possible. He didn’t want to die, but if Cuzon was able to use him to drag the Fire Nation into another world war he didn’t know how he’d live with himself anyway. “The Firelord knows her duty, and as callous as it sounds I’m the least valuable of her children. A life in the United Forces has always meant that I might make the ultimate sacrifice, and nothing has changed. And if my own family turns you down, there’s no way that Tenzin or either of the Water Tribes would do any differently. You’ll try anyway of course, which is why I’m still alive, and that might buy me a couple of days. After that, I can’t see why you’d keep me.” He smiled. “It doesn’t seem like you’ll let me babysit.”

Cuzon said nothing. It was all the answer Iroh needed.

“Where are the others?” Again, Cuzon said nothing, though to Iroh he seemed to grow a little pale. “Dammit, Cuzon, what happened? If you’re going to kill me anyway, you owe me that.”

“The officers were with us. Everyone else is dead.”

Iroh closed his eyes. All of them? Spirits, Eto had been no more than 18, and Ikeda’s wife had just had a baby. He’d handpicked the group, each and every one, and sent them to their deaths. Iroh felt rage bubble up inside him, as hot as any fire. “You bastard,” he said slowly. “They were United Forces. Those were _your men,_ Cuzon. Under _your command._ They trusted you. They followed you. And you…” Iroh met his eyes, unblinking. “I’ve seen a lot of terrible things in my time, Cuzon. You’re the first man that’s made me understand why my grandfather kept the death penalty. I hope you hang.”

Cuzon dropped his gaze. “It had to be done.”

 _“Bullshit._ We _had_ something. We were going to try. You didn’t even let us try.”

Cuzon shook his head. “We never had anything, Iroh. It was rigged from the beginning. You never had a chance. And whatever I might have come to believe, it doesn’t matter. It’s not about you, or about me. We’re just minor players. This is endgame.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I hardly see how holding me hostage is endgame for anyone but me.”

“It’s not _about_ you, Iroh. You should have died in the assault. The fact that you didn’t just means I might have found another use for you. But that’s incidental. It’s about the battle to come.”

_Look at the board, Iroh._

_Oh no._

“Ano,” Iroh said quietly. “That’s why you left her in charge. You knew she’d take the bait.”

Cuzon nodded. “As straight as they come, and Fire Nation to boot. We’ve insulted her, insulted the United Forces, and by taking you we’ll have insulted her country as well. She’ll have no choice but to attack, and attack in force.”

“Except the mecha won’t work.”

Cuzon blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”

Iroh shook his head. “I just figured it out. Asami tried to warn me, but I didn’t understand. I assume it was you who blocked her frequency?”

“Someone on my team, yes. We couldn’t close all communications, that would be too suspicious, but after we heard the first part of your conversation we had to stop it. Clearly your Miss Sato either got someone to talk, or figured it out on her own. We’ve been jamming her ever since.”

Iroh ground his teeth. He couldn’t remember having ever been so angry in his life, but once. “And you threw the Agni Kai, didn’t you? You said later that you can’t see well at close range, that you rely on your earthbending to get around. The last move, when I blinded you with fire and rushed you. Someone who used earthbending, standing on a metal ship, would have felt me coming a mile away. But I hit you anyway. You let me. Because… what? If I didn’t go ashore, if I started a mutiny instead, you’d never reach SWE? And you’d never be able to deliver the working mecha to the rebellion? That's why the boxes were so damned heavy.”

Cuzon had the decency to look ashamed. “Yes. But you have to understand—”

_“I understand nothing!”_

“Iroh—”

“Get out of my sight, Cuzon. You hear me. _Get out!_ ”

Cuzon dropped his gaze and left, acting for all the world like Iroh was still the general instead of a powerless man in a box, waiting for the storm.


	63. IROH

If he listened hard enough, he could hear the sounds of the fighting in between gusts of wind. But Iroh didn’t want to hear. 

LCDR Ano had attacked at first light on the second day. Spirits, she was so predictable. It made him think about his conversation with Cuzon about who made decisions. By any law or custom in the Fire Nation, a woman of Ano’s age would be obeyed without question. But attacking a group that had already gotten the jump on you, at the exact time that any book of tactics would tell you to, and from the direction that the enemy already knew you were coming from… even with working weapons, Iroh would have known better than that. So would someone like Asami. It was one of the things he liked most about her. Asami wasn’t just smart, she was a problem solver. Like with the light pedestrian bridges. Korra and everyone else had been wearing themselves out trying to find a way to remove the spirit vines that had blocked sidewalks all throughout Republic City, but Asami had simply gone over them. There was a time for the textbook answer, and there was a time for thinking outside the box. Iroh supposed the ability to tell the difference was one reason he was a general and Ano wasn’t. 

Not that Iroh had done anything much outside the box lately. The only exceptions had been the few times they’d taken him to piss, and he’d been so heavily guarded it hadn’t mattered much. “You’re really going to watch?” he’d asked the first time, more than a little uncomfortable. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, it was just awkward. But they’d watched anyway. Apparently his captors knew what a powerful firebender like Iroh could do, and they weren’t taking their eyes off him for a second. Thankfully, he hadn't been eating much.

He’d spent most of the rest of the time sitting and thinking. At one point the woman he’d met on the path, Kjyn, had come to him with water and a loaf of some sort of sweet bread, which after he'd politely refused twice he’d only been able to take by ducking into the pyramid and having her hand it down to him. He’d tried to talk to her, but she’d responded only with stony silence. After that he’d taken off his shoes and his jacket, and found that if he curled on his side at the bottom of the pyramid and used them as a pillow he could sleep a little, though it hadn’t been comfortable. A couple of times he’d pushed a little fire into one hand and looked at the picture of him and Asami at the beach. But mostly, he’d thought. 

At first, Iroh’s only thoughts had been of escape. He’d tried everything he could think of. He’d used the hottest fire he could bend given the space on the walls of the pyramid, trying to at least make it crack, but all he’d succeeded in doing was making the inside unbearably warm. He’d tried brute strength as well, but had gotten nowhere besides battered knuckles. And any thoughts of trying to break free while under guard had evaporated during his first short walk to the lavatory. It had been full dark by then, the sky filled with what looked like billions of unfamiliar stars. Iroh realized that he had no idea where he was, and was surrounded by miles of desert besides. Even if he could somehow get away, he’d have no way of going anywhere in particular, and if he picked any direction besides wherever the ships were the best he could hope for was to be recaptured before he died of thirst.

Eventually, his thoughts had drifted to other things as he slowly gave up. He thought about the rest of the fleet and if there was a way to warn them, but besides the fire signal he’d already sent there wasn’t much he could do. Then he thought about the nine men and women that had died. Iroh pictured their faces, one by one. It had always been terrible for him, losing troops. One time he’d lost an entire ship, just bad weather and bad luck, and the pain had almost been unbearable. He’d forced himself to go to every single funeral and stand there, surrounded by grief, just to prove that their lives had mattered to the United Forces, and to him. But this was different. This was murder, plain and simple, and he’d missed all the clues. Iroh didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself for that. Or if he should. He might not have done the deed, but it was his command and he felt responsible.

After he was well and truly miserable, he thought about home. He thought about his apartment, the lease paid up for another six months, and how it would sit empty. He thought about Ling, and hoped she’d be okay. He thought about how the rest of Team Avatar could go back to using regular smackballs instead of the ones with the flame-retardant paint. He wondered if Bolin would keep up with running. But mostly he thought about Asami. He thought about her opening his letter, and hoped that he’d said the right things. He thought about whether she’d keep the ring he’d given her, and whether he wanted her to or not. He imagined her meeting someone else, hopefully, eventually. Having someone else’s children. A little girl, perhaps, with Asami’s bright eyes, who in his mind looked like Illea. He wanted to scream.

Cuzon had come to see him late the previous evening—Iroh could no longer bring himself to think of the man as “commander” after what he’d done. At least he’d had the sense to change out of his United Forces uniform, and now sported the same loose-fitting brown outfit Iroh had seen on the other adults. He’d brought with him another loaf of the sweet bread, some more water, and a steaming mug of something Iroh didn’t recognize. 

“Katfa,” Cuzon said, holding up the cup. He looked pale and exhausted, as if the events of the last 36 hours had aged him ten years. “It’s hardly white dragon, but it’s hot.” 

“Why would I take anything of yours, traitor?”

Cuzon flinched. Then he stared back angrily, something in his expression defiant. “You can choke on your pride, Iroh, or you can have some goddamned katfa and listen to me. I have a proposition to make.”

“How?” Iroh looked pointedly to the smooth walls of the pyramid that trapped his arms inside. Cuzon put the food and drink on the ground, then made a small motion with his hands. A hole just about the size of Iroh’s arm opened in the right wall of the pyramid. He then made a short pulling motion and a section of the pyramid about a foot below Iroh’s chin pulled out into a kind of shelf. Cuzon bent and picked up the bread and the drinks, then stepped forwards and set them on the shelf.

“If you try to firebend, I’ll cut your arm off,” Cuzon said, stepping back. He made another quick motion and the ground behind him rose into a two-by-two cube, making a low seat. He sat, then nodded to the drink. “I didn’t poison it.”

Iroh stretched his arm through the hole, then took a sip of the katfa. To his surprise it was incredibly sweet. He’d been expecting coffee from the smell, but it was more like the thick hot chocolate his grandfather’s friend Katara had constantly given him as a child. No wonder Cuzon had wanted to put sugar in his tea if this is what he was used to. 

Iroh studied the other man, noting the set of his jaw, the new lines on his face. “So my family turned you down already?” he said. He calmly took another sip of the sweet katfa. He didn’t much care for it, but they weren’t feeding him a lot, and calories were calories.

Cuzon grimaced. “Is my face really that easy to read?”

“No. But I can’t see why else you’d come to me so soon.”

“No, Iroh. Your family didn’t turn me down. The committee did.” 

“Meaning?”

Cuzon rubbed at his face, took a deep breath, then looked at the floor. He didn’t seem to want to meet Iroh’s eyes. “Meaning, that they don’t want to offer you as a hostage. Everyone agrees you’re not valuable enough to the United Republic. And with the Fire Nation they’re afraid that, rather than getting concessions, it will just provoke them. After all, what’s stopping the Firelord from working with the Earth Queen to get you back, and helping the Earth Kingdom retake us in the bargain?” 

Iroh thought they had a point there. It was the most likely scenario. 

“So that’s it then?” 

“Not exactly,” said Cuzon. He leaned forwards and took another sip of his katfa. “Which comes to my proposition.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, why. Why is there a proposition, Cuzon? You hate me, you always have. You clearly have no issue killing members of the United Forces, men and women you knew trusted you to keep them safe. And I’m the only one alive who knows what happened. You kill me and your fight with Ano goes badly for you, you leave the door open to going back. You say you were captured, come out the hero, get my job and everything you wanted. So why another proposition? Why not just kill me and have done with it?”

“That’s my business,” said Cuzon flatly.

Iroh barked out a laugh. “I’ve heard that before. What makes you think I’d trust anything you had to say?”

“Nothing. But I’m going to say it anyway.” Cuzon glanced around, as if making sure they were still alone. Then he leaned forwards and dropped his voice. “Iroh, listen to me. You may go by general more than prince, but you’re of the Fire Nation royal line all the same. And while SWE may not be a kingdom, we are not without our own ancient bloodlines. A union between a Fire Nation prince and one of our most prominent citizens could go a long way towards establishing the kinds of lasting diplomatic relationships we’ll need to maintain independence. SWE will have blood ties to the Fire Nation. The committee is willing to consider this as an option.”

Iroh laughed again. “I never thought you were stupid, Cuzon. You know I’d never agree to that.”

“Why not? You said it yourself, what good are third sons besides as soldiers and political pawns? Barely a generation ago the Earth Kingdom royal family was still using arranged marriages, and it’s not unheard-of in your country either. I’m not asking you to fall in love. But if you make the match, the fact is, you’ll be useful. Otherwise, you won’t.”

Iroh shook his head. “Cuzon, I’m in love with Asami Sato. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. Those are the only three facts that matter.”

Cuzon seemed surprised at that. “You’re engaged?”

Iroh nodded. “The night before Raiko gave me the order. And I’m coming back to her, or not at all. There aren’t any other options.”

Cuzon cursed. “That explains it then. And here I thought...” He trailed off, apparently thinking.

“Explains what?” Iroh asked.

“Hiroshi Sato.”

It was Iroh’s turn to be surprised. “What does he have to do with anything?”

Cuzon looked momentarily conflicted. Then he sighed. “It can’t hurt to tell you. Mr. Sato put up the bulk of the money to buy the fake mecha from Varrick—”

 _“Varrick?”_ All of a sudden it all fell into place. The smacker Varrick had tried to sell him, the one that hadn’t worked. It hadn’t been a prototype. Spirits, he’d been so _blind._

“Varrick. So that the United Forces wouldn’t know that anything was missing when we took the light mecha. Not that he knew that’s what they were for. Originally the idea was simply to make a switch to steal the real weapons, and we were scrambling to come up with the cash to cover the fakes. That was part of why I started selling them to the triads. That, and to drum up enough of a threat for Raiko to order mass production. But right before we left, someone representing Hiroshi Sato approached me with a different deal. He said Mr. Sato would finance what we owed Varrick in exchange for… you. That you died in the fighting. I thought it was because Mr. Sato still blamed you for the defeat of the Equalists, though it was really the Avatar who brought down Amon. You marrying his daughter though… that makes more sense. I assume Miss Sato inherited everything of his when his assets were seized?“

Iroh stared into his cup of thick brown katfa. He felt so stupid. “I went to see him in RCP,” he said finally. “Just before we left. Asami didn’t know. But as a man it somehow didn’t feel right not to tell him, even if I had no intention of asking his permission. Whatever happened, he loved her once, and he’s her only family. And he… he said he wouldn’t allow it. That Asami was better off dead than with a ‘monster’ like me.” Iroh looked up. “That he should have killed me when he had the chance.”

“Why would you tell a man who hates firebenders enough to try to overthrow the government that you’re marrying his heir and only child?” 

“It was the right thing to do.”

Cuzon shook his head slowly. “Anyway, in order for you to die in the fighting, there had to _be_ fighting. Hiroshi’s man suggested that our best path to independence wasn’t just defensive, but a decisive victory over the United Forces. Make them attack us with a force of mostly non-benders, troops who would rely entirely on the faulty mecha, and we’d crush them.” 

For a minute Iroh’s vision went completely red. He saw it all now. The unusually large number of non-benders on the mission. It wasn’t just because they’d volunteered. Cuzon had planned the mission with Raiko, including staffing, and Raiko would never have seen it. “Everyone who came with us!” he spat, furious. “You recruited them to die!”

Cuzon pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Yes. I did. I can’t deny that. It will make us credible, and we’ll have captured ships besides.”

“And that’s worth hundreds of innocent lives to you?” 

“How many have died under Earth Kingdom rule?” Cuzon shouted suddenly, face red with anger. “Ask Kjyn. Ask Illea. Where’s my brother? What does innocent even mean?”

“And what did hatred ever solve?” Iroh shouted back. He slammed the tin mug of katfa on the stone shelf in front of him hard enough to dent it, hot liquid spilling onto his hand. “What has it built? I’m from the Fire Nation, I would know. Look at my family, look at me. _Look at me, Cuzon!”_

Cuzon glared at him, his face still twisted in anger. Iroh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn’t lost his temper like that in a long time. He counted to ten and breathed out. Then he did it again. Cuzon said nothing.

“Someone once told me,” Iroh said after a while, “someone I trust, that the person I reminded him of most wasn’t my mother, or my grandfather, or even the man I’m named for. It was Firelord Ozai.” He opened his eyes and looked at Cuzon. The other man sat on his earthen stool, motionless, his pale green eyes unreadable. “He said that I had the same… tendencies, I suppose. Thinking imperfection means we just aren't trying hard enough. Frustration and anger, at ourselves, at others, when things aren’t perfect anyway. Believing that we always know best, and that if only we were in charge we could fix it all. And I’ve seen enough of myself that I believe him.” Iroh used his one free hand to push his hair back, realizing too late that it was sticky with spilled katfa. 

“I never wanted to be Firelord, Cuzon, I know I can’t do politics, but do you think it’s an accident that I made general at 22? I worked for that, I wanted that, because I knew I was better. That I’d be the best. But I have something Ozai never did. What I want most, the thing I would have spent my whole life striving for, it’s already mine. It’s nothing but dumb luck, really. I’m no more deserving than anyone else. But Firelord Ozai had to burn down the world to get what he wanted, and all I have to do is go home. Take that away from me, hand me a woman I don’t love and a long leash and call it living, and I don’t trust myself. I’m not going to live a life governed by hate, Cuzon. I know what it does to people. I see what it’s done to you. So if those are my choices, kill me. Because spirits help you if you don’t.”

“You’d die because of your pride?” Cuzon asked quietly.

“It’s not pride, Cuzon. It’s love. And the fact that you don’t know the difference is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re not the only one who’s ever loved someone,” Cuzon snapped. “Get off your high-fucking-ostrich horse.” He stood and looked down at where Iroh sat, trapped in his stone pyramid. “I’m sorry, Iroh. That was my last offer. Ano is on her way. When that’s over...” 

But he didn’t have to finish. Cuzon left, leaving Iroh alone in the dark with his thoughts.


	64. ASAMI

In the end, it was easy to find the United Forces fleet. All they had to do was follow the smoke. 

Asami could see it long before she saw the actual ships, or even the sea, a thick dark stain against the cloudless sky. She stood at the very front of the gondola, both hands pressed to the thick glass. There was no mistaking smoke from a mecha fire, either, roiling and black with burning oil. And what was a battleship, after all, besides a great big machine? 

Eventually the fleet came into view. It was clustered just off the coast, half a dozen dark gray battleships glinting in the noonday sun. The two ships closest to the steep cliffs were burning, and the one on the left was listing badly. There appeared to be a hole in its side.

“Any luck?” she asked, looking back at Zhu Li. Varrick’s assistant was seated cross-legged on the floor next to the radio that Asami had yanked from the penthouse, tapping the end of a pencil into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking up, her gray eyes swimming behind her round glasses. “I can’t get anything back, but with the adjustments they might be able to get the code.”

“Zhu Li can do anything,” said Varrick. He was standing by the window, doing nothing. “I should know. Just last week I asked for an apple, a nice crisp one, not soft, like a braeburn or—”

“ _Can it,_ Varrick,” Asami spat. She turned back to Zhu Li. “But you’ve been sending the approach message?”

Zhu Li grimaced. “Not exactly. What you gave me was too long to do accurately. So I’ve just been tapping out the word ‘friends’ over and over.”

Asami sighed. She’d written out something a lot more detailed than that, but she supposed it would have to do. The most important thing is that none of the United Forces firebenders or waterbenders tried to take down the airship as they approached. “Friends” was as likely to work as anything else.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” sighed Mako. He was standing over by the window on the left side of the gondola, opposite Varrick, looking out at the burning ships. He’d managed to scare up a cup of instant coffee from somewhere in their supplies and was holding it in both hands. As Asami watched he glanced down, frowning at it. She thought he was probably trying to use his bending to heat it up and smiled to herself. Mako had never been all that good at what she thought of as “domestic firebending.” 

“What else have we got?” Bolin said. He’d also been looking out the window, his arm around Opal’s waist. Pabu was draped around his neck and appeared to be asleep. “And besides, we’re Team Avatar! This isn’t exactly our first fight.”

“But this isn’t a fight, Bolin,” said Mako. “That out there, that’s a war. What are we doing flying into a war?”

Asami opened her mouth, but Korra beat her to it. “We’re doing what we always do, Mako,” she said, walking up to the front of the gondola with her own cup of coffee. Asami noticed that hers was steaming. “We’re going to help. We’re going to help Iroh, and from the looks of it we’re going to help the UF as well. Does that look like balance to you? This is my job. Besides, what’s a war besides a really, really big fight?”

“But what if the ships don’t get the message?” Opal asked. She turned from the window, and to Asami she looked a little scared. “Those aren’t just any boats, those are United Forces, and they don’t look very happy. If they don’t know what ‘friends’ means, or don’t believe it or something, won’t they assume we’re attacking?”

Asami pulled her green tinted flying goggles out of her pocket and slipped them over her hair, which she’d put up into a ponytail. She walked over to the very front of the gondola, where the manual controls were, and settled down into the pilot’s seat. “That’s why I’m flying,” she said, and lowered her goggles. There wasn’t any wind inside, but she found they helped with the glare, and anyway it was more of a mindset. “Cross your fingers.”

The first fireball nearly hit them. “Whoa!” Asami yanked hard on the rudder, but an airship wasn’t exactly fast. “Guess they don’t want to be friends, Zhu Li,” she said through gritted teeth, pulling as hard as she could while she fed the added engines with as much juice as she could. The airship rolled to the right as it banked away from the ships, spilling everything and everyone inside in a heap against the wall.

“Now what?” yelled Mako. He was shaking his hand and holding on to the window frame. It looked like his coffee had spilled on him when Asami had jerked the wheel.

“Um…” Asami thought hard. “Oh! Zhu Li, can you teach Mako and Korra that code? It’s short, right?”

“Okay, but what good will that do?” Zhu Li said from the wall. She was cradling the radio, her back pressed between Varrick’s legs. It seemed like he’d tried to catch her, but had wound up slammed against the wall by the heavy radio instead. He looked very uncomfortable.

Asami leveled the airship back to something like a straight course. “Mako and Korra can lean out the window and firebend it. It’s dots and dashes, right? They can do the same thing with fire.”

Korra looked at Mako and shrugged. Mako frowned and looked skeptical, but followed Korra over to Zhu Li. After a very long minute, they both nodded and walked to opposite sides of the gondola. 

“Asami, the windows don’t open," said Mako. He banged his fist at the edge of the window, as if hoping that would make a handle appear.

“Can you shoot fire out of your fists or can’t you?” Asami called back. Really, it wasn’t that hard.

Mako took a few steps back, then sent a ball of fire at one of the windows. He covered his eyes as it exploded outwards. He unwound the red scarf from his neck, wrapped it around his hand, and started clearing the broken glass from the frame as Korra broke a window on the opposite side of the airship.

“All right,” Asami shouted over the sudden rush of wind. “I’m going to turn us around for another pass. Get ready.” 

“Hang on,” called Bolin. He trotted over to where Mako was hanging out of the open window and grabbed onto his brother’s waist. “Now you can use both your hands, Mako. Go for it.” He turned back and looked at Varrick. “Get Korra.”

Varrick leaned back against the wall. “I’m really not all that strong.” Opal made a huffing noise and walked over to where Korra stood, then wrapped her arms around the Avatar’s waist. 

“Good thinking, Bolin!” Asami yelled. “Here we go.”

***

The gondola bumped down hard on the back deck of the command ship. Asami had never seen the big gray battleship from the air, but she recognized it well enough once she landed. Although they hadn’t been in his quarters often, she’d spent enough time there with Iroh before he got his apartment to recognize it easily, and was glad that she’d guessed the right one. She wondered idly if they’d given him his old room back for the journey to SWE. She thought he might have liked that. Then she tried to stop thinking about Iroh. 

She popped open the door of the airship and stepped off onto the deck. The smell of burning oil hit her in the face all at once, the smoke stinging her eyes. It reminded her forcibly of the Future Industries airfield after the battle with the Equalists. Or the whole city, for that matter. There had been burning battleships there, too.

“Declare yourselves,” said a stern voice. Asami looked over to see a woman striding towards them, flanked on both sides by several men and women in the dark gray uniforms of enlisted United Forces. The woman was perhaps in her early sixties, straight-backed and severe, her iron gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. For a half second Asami thought it was Firelord Izumi and she froze, not knowing what Iroh’s mother would be doing on a battleship. Then she recovered herself and saw that, though also obviously from the Fire Nation, this woman was shorter, had a rounder face, and wore a red United Forces officer’s uniform. Asami thought she looked vaguely familiar, and may have met her before, but didn’t recall her name.

“Asami Sato, civilian liaison to Republic City Central Command,” Asami said, trying to project her voice a little. This didn’t seem like the type of woman who would appreciate having to ask her name twice. “I apologize for not being able to signal better than we did, but it seems that our communications weren’t reaching you. I need to see General Iroh immediately.”

The woman pressed her mouth into a thin line. “So you’re Miss Sato,” she said. “From Future Industries. I’m Lieutenant Commander Ano.” LCDR Ano did not look happy to see her.

“LCDR Ano, thank you for having us. I’ve also brought the Avatar. She believes that she can help.” Asami glanced behind her as Korra stepped out of the airship, followed by the rest of the team. At the mention of the Avatar, Ano’s expression changed from thinly veiled dislike to something more respectful.

“Avatar Korra,” Ano said, and bowed slightly to Korra. “Of course you are welcome. Spirits knows we could use you.”

“Please, LCDR Ano, I need to see General Iroh,” Asami said. “Before anything else. It’s important.”

Ano turned back to Asami, then shook her head slowly. Her golden eyes, so much like Iroh’s, looked grim. “I’m sorry, Miss Sato,” she said. “General Iroh went on the first landing. Two days ago. He sent a distress signal and he… he hasn’t been seen since.”

The bottom fell out of the world.


	65. IROH

Iroh heard a noise outside and pushed up onto his knees, putting his head through the hole in the top of the pyramid. The first thing he saw was Cuzon ducking into the tent. He looked rough. He was covered head to toe in dirt and dust, and the right lens of his glasses was cracked. His lower lip was split and swollen, and although it seemed like he’d at least taken time to wash it Iroh could see dried blood in the corner of his mouth. Cuzon walked towards him slowly, as if he was exhausted, or maybe injured in some way. For the first time, Iroh remembered that SWE wouldn’t have waterbenders. There was no healing here.

Cuzon stood in front of Iroh, then folded his hands behind his back. “It’s done,” he said. “Or nearly. We pushed them all the way back into the sea. Ano is regrouping, but her losses were… heavy. It’s only a matter of time.”

“That was _your fleet,_ Cuzon!” Iroh spat. A part of him still couldn’t believe it. A commander’s responsibility, his duty, was to protect the people under him. How many had Cuzon killed instead? “Those were your men. How do you sleep at night?”

“I don’t expect to.”

“If you’re looking for forgiveness before you kill me, you won’t get it.”

“I didn’t expect that either.” Cuzon’s voice was quiet and even, as if they were having a polite conversation over tea instead of discussing murder. 

“So why are you here?”

“Iroh, I have something for you.” Cuzon reached into a pocket of his loose brown pants and pulled out the book Iroh had had in his pack. _A General History of the Western Pirates_. 

Iroh frowned. He didn’t really feel like reading, or understand why the man would come all the way back just to give him a book.

“Iroh. Please, take it.”

Something in his voice made Iroh pause. He’d called Cuzon a murderer to his face, and he hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t even yelled back. Instead, he sounded… sad. Iroh put his arm through the hole that Cuzon had made and took the book.

“Iroh, there’s something you need to know,” Cuzon said. He put his hands behind his back again, then looked at Iroh. His pale green eyes seemed pained. “It’s… now that the assault is over, it’s almost time. For you. We expect that Ano will be back, probably with every bender she can muster, and there’s a chance we’ll have to move. But it’s important for the United Forces, and especially for the Fire Nation, to believe that you died in the fighting. Just another casualty. No one on the committee wants anyone to find you here. So it will be soon. But… spirits, Iroh, it’s not good. We’re earthbenders. It won’t look natural unless… unless...” Cuzon looked away, seemingly unable to finish.

Iroh closed his eyes, understanding. “It won’t look like I was killed in the battle unless I’m beaten to death with rocks. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

Iroh sighed. That was bad. He thought about how it had felt to have Cuzon’s metal spheres slam into him during the Agni Kai, the agony of it, then imagined that feeling, over and over, all over his body, until it simply gave out. It wasn’t the worst thing he could imagine, but it was close.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Because you wanted to help.”

“What?”

“Because you wanted to help,” Cuzon said. “Because out of everyone, Raiko, Sato, Varrick, the whole lot of them, you actually gave a damn about peace. And more than that, you put skin in the game, a lot. Spirits, you fought me for it. And you would have gone in alone if I’d won, I know you would have.”

“And a lot of good that’s done me,” Iroh said sourly. “All my life, all I’ve tried to do is the right thing. Yet here I am.”

“No one ever said the world was fair.”

“No. No one did.”

“I’m sorry, Iroh,” said Cuzon. “You’re not the man I thought you were. If we knew each other under different circumstances, I think we could have even been friends. But I can’t change the way that nature made lions or badgermoles. Spirits how I wish that I could, but I can’t.”

“It’s not too late, Cuzon. Even now.”

“You can’t change history, Iroh. For men like you and I, it was always too late. But look in the book. It isn’t much, but it’s the best I can do.”

***

Iroh sat cross legged at the bottom of the pyramid and thought about courage. _A General History of the Western Pirates_ lay open before him on the stone floor. Tucked into the center of the book was a single razor blade, the long kind used for shaving. Except that shaving was not what this one was for.

Iroh honestly didn’t know if he could do it. The times he’d thought of dying, it had always been somebody else doing the killing. Even in his most desperate moments, like when he’d thought that he would be hung for desertion because of his involvement with the Southern Water Tribe, he’d wanted to face it. To go to whatever end with his head held high, because he knew that he’d been right, and because he’d never have anyone call him a coward. But this, this was different. Wasn’t it? What was the bravest way now? Saying to hell with the pain, and facing whatever the SWE committee felt they needed to do? Or keeping control, going out on his own terms, sending them one final snub with a slash to the wrist? Iroh had no idea. 

Even more than that, how did one know when? They could come for him at any minute. But at the same time, he didn’t want to die. Not even a little bit. Iroh had always known there were risks given his profession, but he’d never really, deep down, believed it would happen any time soon. He’d be 26 in two months. A few weeks ago he’d had his whole life ahead of him. He was getting married. Thinking, maybe, about a family. So how did one decide that this moment, this was the one that was the last? That it was finally okay? Iroh found that every time he thought about it, something in him screamed in protest, just one more breath. One more. And one more. But the alternative was almost unthinkable, and in the end he’d be just as dead.

Iroh picked up the razor and just held it, feeling it’s weight. It looked very sharp. Then he pulled out the picture of Asami, the one of her laughing. 

_I hope I made you proud,_ he’d written her. But which one was it? 


	66. ASAMI

“We did everything right,” LCDR Ano said. “It was a textbook in and out. But everything went wrong anyway.” She took a sip of her tea, then rubbed at her temple in a way that, for some reason, made her look younger.

“The mecha didn’t work,” Asami said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

Ano paled. “So you  _ did _ know?”

Asami shook her head. Her own tea sat on the table in front of her, untouched. They were in a long dining room, what Iroh had once called a “wardroom,” that seemed to be some kind of upscale cafeteria. “I tried to warn the fleet. It’s why we came. I realized that someone at RCCC had purchased fakes, duplicates meant to look like the light mecha that Future Industries supplied.” She glanced sideways at Varrick, who was seated next to her. He swallowed hard. Then she turned back to Ano. “As soon as I knew I radioed Iroh, but I was cut off almost immediately. I don’t think he got the message. I’ve been trying ever since, but in the meantime I—I mean we—decided to come. Just in case… just in case…”

“Just in case we could help,” said Korra, taking over. Asami looked at her gratefully. She wasn’t sure how much more talking she could do. “LCDR Ano,” Korra continued, turning to face Ano, “I know that you’re busy, but it would help a lot if you could tell us everything. There might still be something that I can do.”

“Of course, Avatar Korra,” said Ano, inclining her head slightly. “Though I’m still trying to understand what happened myself. This is what I know.” She took another long pull at her tea, then began. “As soon as we arrived, General Iroh, Commander Cuzon, and a handpicked group of officers and enlisted men with light mecha set off for the coast. The general had some fool idea of”—she cut off, looking at Asami—“some idea, rather, that he wanted to try to negotiate peace before we went ahead with the planned invasion. He was in charge, so that’s what we did. Commander Cuzon appointed me in charge in their absence. A group of what I assume were the rebels met the general’s delegation on the beach, then the entire party carried their supplies up a path to the top of the cliffs and disappeared. A few minutes later our lookouts saw a fire lance. It’s not SOP for the United Forces, but anyone who has served in the Fire Nation army would know it as a basic distress signal. General Iroh was the only firebender in the party, so we assumed it came from him.

“We sent a search and rescue as soon as we could. We recovered nine bodies at the top of the cliffs, all the men and women who used the light mecha, and a few supplies. General Iroh, Commander Cuzon, and three lieutenants under Cuzon were missing.” 

_ Bodies. Missing.  _ Asami stared at her tea. 

“After that, I decided to move ahead with the invasion as planned. Except I could find no invasion plans whatsoever, either from Commander Cuzon or General Iroh, who I understood had been working on it together the few days preceding their departure. I searched everywhere except their private quarters.”

Asami started at that. The idea of Iroh and Cuzon doing anything together besides choke one another with their bare hands was a definite surprise. She looked up at Ano.

“So I did what I thought best,” she continued. “We went in early this morning, every non-bender—we brought mostly non-benders on this mission, for some reason—armed with the new light mecha. General Iroh had been training them himself, so I thought we were ready. But we weren’t. They were waiting for us, it was an ambush. And the mecha, as you said, none of it worked. Not a single piece. Not only that, but they had their own. And it…” LCDR Ano shook her head. “Avatar Korra, it was a slaughter. We lost three quarters of our force, almost 700 men and women killed or out of action. They pushed us all the way back to the beach, and were then able to commandeer some of the landing craft. They had metalbenders, a lot of them, plus their own fire mecha. Working together they were able to tear holes in two of the ships and set fires before we could drive them off. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s the single biggest defeat in the history of the United Forces, and that includes what Miss Sato’s father and Amon did in Yue Bay. Though I believe that’s second.”

Ano turned away from Korra and looked hard at Asami. “Why does it always seem like a Sato is involved when the United Forces suffers such losses?”

“That’s not fair!” snarled Korra. Her blue eyes blazed in anger. “And you know it. Asami isn’t her father, and she’s been working with the UF for over a year. She’d never do anything to hurt General Iroh, either. I’d swear on my life to that. You leave her out of this.”

“It’s okay, Korra,” said Asami. She felt so tired. “It’s a fair question. But I promise that I didn’t know. And I’ve lost as much as anyone in this.”

“We don’t know that, Asami,” said Mako beside her. He reached over and squeezed her arm. “We don’t know anything yet.” 

“So what’s next?” Bolin asked. 

Ano shook her head. “We’re regrouping for a second wave shortly, benders only, but we don’t have that many. And we need the waterbenders to stay here and tend to the wounded, which reduces our force even further.”

“I’ll go,” said Mako. Everyone looked at him. “What? You need firebenders. I don’t know what else I can do. But I’ve been fighting earthbenders my whole life. I want to help.” 

“Very well,” said Ano. “We’d be glad to have you, Mako. Every man counts.”

“Every person,” said Korra. “I’m in as well. But I want to help with the wounded first. I’m not the world’s best healer, but I’ll do what I can. And hopefully having the Avatar on your side will make a difference.”

Ano smiled gratefully. “Of course, Avatar Korra. Any assistance you can provide would be most welcome.”

Opal looked at Bolin. “I want to go as well. If they have air smackers, it might help to have an airbender on your side.” 

Asami looked at them, her friends. She knew they were right. This was where the greatest need was. And what was worse, she knew that Iroh would have agreed with them. She remembered him arguing the same thing with Master Katara once, about how she shouldn’t let her attachments cause her to trade someone who she knew needed her for someone who only might.

“I’m going after Iroh,” Asami said. “I know it’s unlikely, but if you didn’t find him, there’s still a chance. I have to try. If you’re attacking again with the benders, that might be enough of a distraction for me to sneak in behind and check for prisoners, Cuzon and the others, too. We’ve been working on a couple of things to counter metalbenders as well.”

Bolin looked at Opal, then shook his head. “I’m going with Asami,” he said. “I’m sorry, but Iroh gave me a job to do, and I’m going to do it.” Opal put a hand on his arm and nodded.

Asami wanted to kiss him. “Thanks, Bolin. I’d love that.” She turned to Varrick next to her. “Varrick, Zhu Li, I’m going to leave some of the stuff we made with you as well. It could help if they send metalbenders after the ships again.” Varrick nodded, for once keeping his mouth shut. 

LCDR Ano looked at her watch. “Very well. Avatar Korra, Mako, Miss Beifong, Varrick, Ms. Moon, come with me.” She put down her tea and stood, then inclined her head towards Asami. “Miss Sato, Bolin, good luck. We attack at sundown. You’d best get moving.”


	67. PABU

At first Pabu didn’t understand. The paper smelled like paper, and like the long-haired member of BOLIN PACK. But she was right there. He could smell her clearly, her scent a dusty lavender sharp with fear. Pabu looked back to THE BOLIN and cocked his head.

“Come on, Pabu. Try again. We need you to find Iroh, okay?”

“It’s not going to work, Bolin. It was a good idea, but I’ve carried that letter for weeks. Any smell of Iroh is probably long gone.”

“No, come on, give him a chance.” THE BOLIN squatted down and held out the paper again. “Iroh, Pabu, okay? Tall guy, usually sits next to Asami here, always gives you half his pretzels because he’s a sucker? Try it.” Pabu sniffed the paper again, puzzled. He didn’t know what THE BOLIN wanted, exactly. But at the mention of “pretzel” a memory tickled the back of his mind. Another member of BOLIN PACK, one who wasn’t here, with big warm hands that scratched behind Pabu’s ears and who was always generous with his pretzel. Pabu could just make out his scent on the paper, so faint it almost wasn’t there. But it was. A bright red scent, just at the creases, where a big warm scratching hand might have rubbed into the paper to flatten it.

Pabu chirped. He understood now. Find the missing member of BOLIN PACK, the one with the bright red scent who shared pretzel. He wasn’t quite sure where to start though. Pabu had been all over the airship, and the man was definitely not here. But THE BOLIN stood and walked to a door, which he opened. 

“I think he’s got something. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“No, I’m not sure of anything, but this is the best plan I’ve got. Be careful, okay?”

“Okay. You, too. Come on, Pabu. Let’s go!” And THE BOLIN disappeared through the door. Pabu followed him. It was dark, but that wasn’t a problem for a fire ferret. He could hear just fine, and the night air was alive with the colors of scents. The strongest by far was a rich brown scent, which was really many different smells all mixed together, the way he often smelled a large den of humans. They must be near another pack then. 

THE BOLIN headed in that direction as well, so this must be where he thought the man was. Pabu trotted after him, sniffing the air every few feet or so for the bright red scent. It was hard to concentrate though. There were so many smells here, not just the human den smells, but new smells, too. And sounds as well. The flutterings of some kind of night creature. The scent of something interesting that might be good to nibble on. But THE BOLIN did not stop for these sounds or smells, so neither did Pabu. He didn’t smell the man from BOLIN PACK at all though. Instead he followed THE BOLIN towards the den, right up until they were nearly inside. 

Suddenly there was a crash. Pabu flattened himself on the ground, hoping that whatever it was would pass him by. Then there was a clang, like the loud machines in the streets at home, and human shouts.

“It’s okay, buddy. That’s just Asami raising hell. That’s our signal, come on.”

THE BOLIN kept going, ignoring the loud sounds from the other side of the human den. Pabu crept after him quietly, encouraged by the lack of fear smell on THE BOLIN but still on alert.

The first structure they passed wasn’t a burrow at all, but a large wall that separated a slight depression from the rest of the den. Dug into the ground were a series of holes where the humans had left their scat. Pabu had learned that humans were very particular about this in a way that fire ferrets were not. But scat was always interesting to smell, no matter where one put it. Pabu sniffed the air again, then froze. Amidst the mingled smells of many, many humans, humans of every conceivable color, he could just make out the bright red smell of the man from the paper. 

Pabu chittered and ran over to the wall. 

“Ugh, seriously Pabu? That’s the bathroom. That’s disgusting, get out of there.” But Pabu ignored him. He paced around the wall and found a place where the smell of the man was a little stronger. He chirped to THE BOLIN, then started following the scent of the man from BOLIN PACK as it led back in the direction of the den.

“Are you saying…? Ugh, if we find him this way I’m never telling anybody, but okay little buddy. I guess if Iroh’s here, he would’ve had to go, so it makes sense.”

Pabu followed the bright red scent as best he could. There wasn’t much of it, and what there was seemed to be old. Twice he almost lost it entirely, and had to go in circles before he picked it up again. He was almost to the first of the tall burrows at the edge of the den when the smell of the man hit him in the face like a physical force. It was so strong, all of a sudden on the wind, but it wasn’t a good smell. Usually the scent of the man from BOLIN PACK, the one with pretzel, was bright and vital, something young and strong and healthy. This smell, though still obviously the same human, was all wrong. It was the smell of a caged animal, dirty and starved and poisoned with fear, and there was blood. Pabu didn’t want to go near it. Something in that much pain could be dangerous, no matter how much pretzel it had.

“Pabu?” THE BOLIN had caught up to him. “Pabu, what is it?” But Pabu didn’t move. He was afraid now. THE BOLIN squatted down next to him, then patted him on the head. “It’s okay, Pabu. I promise. Whatever it is, I’ll protect you. But you have to help me. Iroh is counting on us. I can’t do this without you.” He gave Pabu another pat, then nudged him with one hand. “Go on. Please.” 

Pabu reluctantly trotted towards the bad man smell. It led to one of the tall pointed burrows, one at the very outside of the den. The mixed brown smell was less here, as if it wasn’t a place that many of the other humans frequented. Pabu couldn’t blame them. 

He stopped outside of the burrow. He didn’t want to go in. But THE BOLIN didn’t seem to need him to. He walked cautiously to the opening of the burrow, his body tense, as if some part of his dull human sense also recognized the bad smell and knew it was dangerous. 

“Iroh?” 

“Huh? What?”

“Iroh! Shit, ok, I got this.” 

“Bolin?”

“Oh fuck, shit, Iroh, what the hell? Hang on.”

“Oh, that. I… had a choice, you see. And I didn’t want to… but I’ve never been that good with my left.”

“Hey, hang on, buddy. Let me just… holy cow, okay, that’ll have to do for now. Come on, we’re going for a walk.” 

“I’m not sure that’s going to work.”

“Not an option, I. I’m not leaving without you. You’re just going to have to deal. Now get up. I know you can do it.”

Pabu heard a couple of grunts, then THE BOLIN emerged from the burrow with the man supported on one shoulder. For some reason half of THE BOLIN’S second skin was gone, and was wrapped around the arm of the man instead. THE BOLIN walked slowly, half carrying the man, who seemed to be having trouble keeping up.

“Good Pabu. You’re the best. Keep a lookout, okay? Let me know if anyone is coming.” 

Pabu trotted back the way they had come, doing his best to keep well ahead of THE BOLIN and the man. 

***

The man lay on the floor of the airship, wrapped in a blanket that smelled of dusty lavender. His head was in the lap of the long-haired member of BOLIN PACK, who Pabu understood was his mate. That seemed to be good. The fear smell was entirely gone from the man now, though the woman still had a little. Perhaps they just didn’t like being separated. That was understandable enough. Fire ferrets didn’t mate for life, but Pabu knew that other species did. She pet his hair even though he was clearly asleep and didn’t notice. 

“What happened to him?” 

“I don’t know. He said something about being given a choice. My best guess is that they had something nasty planned for him, and he decided to go out on his own terms.”

“Thank the spirits Pabu found him. And you.”

“No kidding. I don’t know how long he’d been like that, but the sooner we get to Korra the better. I think he lost a lot of blood.”

“If you ever need anything, Bolin. Anything at all. You know we’re here, right? I owe you everything. We both do.”

“Oh please. What are friends for? Besides, Pabu is the real hero. Good Pabu.” Pabu felt a firm hand that smelled of soft green moss scratch him behind the ears. That was nice. Pabu crawled into the lap of THE BOLIN and turned around a few times, getting comfortable. Then he rested his head on his knee and closed his eyes. Good Pabu, indeed. 

His paws twitched as he dreamed of pretzel.


	68. IROH

Iroh was having the most wonderful dream. For the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. Everything was soft, the world a blur of pleasant whites and grays. He lay on his side, drifting, tucked snugly against something warm that seemed to be pressed up against his back.

“They had to sedate him. He kept trying to get up.”

“And her?”

“Just tired, I think. She was up most of the night with him and Avatar Korra. And you said she didn’t sleep much on the way over.”

Slowly Iroh realized that something lay on top of him. He shifted a little and it tightened around him, but not in a bad way. It felt really good actually, a soft weight curled around his chest, keeping him safe.

“And how… how is he?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. Though honestly, I’m amazed you got him to walk as far as you say you did, the shape he was in when you came back. But, say what you want about the general, he’s always been tough. I think the hardest part now is going to be getting him to sit still. Avatar Korra mostly healed the cuts and the worst of the bruising—it looks like they beat the hell out of him—but no waterbending in the world can make blood. That just takes time and rest. Which is why he’s high as a kite right now.”

"He's pretty stubborn."

"I'm well aware. No sign of Commander Cuzon or the other officers?"

"Not that I could tell. Iroh was the only one. They could have been somewhere else though, I suppose. Once I saw what he'd done I just wanted to get out of there."

"I understand."

“So what’s next, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Not here. Follow me.”

Sounds retreating into the background. Iroh felt his nose begin to itch. He tried to move his hand but another hand was there. Long fingers wrapped tightly around his. They felt so smooth. He twined his fingers in the hand, nose forgotten, enjoying the sensation, the perfect fit. Interesting. He hoped that he remembered all this when he woke up. 

Iroh faded out.


	69. ASAMI

Asami awoke to see two bright golden eyes staring back at her from under thick dark brows. Iroh lay on his back, his head turned towards her on the pillow. She realized they were lying down in the ship’s infirmary, crammed together on one of the narrow beds behind a white curtain. She must have fallen asleep next to him. The arm closest to her was wrapped from wrist to elbow in stiff white bandages.

“Hey there,” Iroh said, grinning. He looked pale, with dark circles under his eyes, but there was no trace of the disorientation he’d had the night before. He kissed her on the nose. “I’ve missed waking you up.”

Asami threw an arm across Iroh’s chest and hugged him tight, burying her face in his shoulder. 

“Oh, Iroh.”

“Shh, hey. It’s okay. I’m here.”

She felt Iroh shift a little, rolling onto his shoulder to face her as she pulled back. His mouth pulled tight as he did so. Korra had said it looked like he’d been beaten pretty badly, and that his back and left shoulder had gotten the worst of it. The waterbending had helped a lot, but Asami imagined it was still sore. Iroh used his good hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, then ran his hand down under her chin and looked at her, his broad smile lighting up his whole face. 

“I was so worried,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t.” 

“What?”

“The princess, you see, was very smart, and very brave,” Iroh said in his reading voice. “The prince knew that he was very lucky that someone so smart and so brave had come to rescue him. No one else could have done it.” 

Asami laughed. If only it had been that simple. Iroh tipped her chin up towards him and leaned down. She could feel the heat radiating off him, see the faint flush come to his pale cheeks. His lips were soft and warm when they met hers, and unusually scratchy from a few days growth. His breath was a little sour, but in a way that was natural, familiar, like a lazy Sunday morning. Asami wrapped her arm tighter around him, pulling him close, feeling the solid weight of him against her whole body. Iroh ran his hand up the line of her jaw and into her hair, pressing his mouth firmly to hers, deepening the kiss into something that was passionate yet well-worn, comfortable. The world faded away around her, leaving nothing but warmth and lips and strong hands. He was really here, her Iroh, her puzzle piece. She was home.

The jingle of a curtain. “Whoa, Asami, Fireball, get a room.”

“It’s therapeutic,” Iroh mumbled, but he pulled away. He frowned at Korra as she peered through the white divider that separated the infirmary beds. “I’m not lying, I read that once. Something about antibodies. You’re interrupting my healing.”

Korra laughed, blue eyes bright. “I’ll keep that in mind. But in the meantime, if you’re well enough to eat Asami’s face off then we need you. Both of you. Think you can make it up to the wardroom? Prepare to get stuffed full of iron, too. I hope you like tuna and spinach.”

Iroh nodded. “I’ll manage.” He looked down at himself. “I’d rather not go like this though.”

“We’ll stop by your quarters,” Asami said. She brushed Iroh’s hair back off his forehead and turned to Korra. “Thirty minutes?” 

Korra nodded. “Works for me. See you there.”

***

Team Avatar gathered with LCDR Ano around the long table in the officers’ wardroom a half hour later, Iroh looking very pale in a navy blue t-shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back and still wet. With a little help from her he’d managed a shower and a shave in addition to changing. He looked across the table at Korra, then Ano. “Well?” he said. “How bad is it?”

Korra looked to LCDR Ano, then back at Iroh. “On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being rainbows and chocolate and one being everything on fire, we’re at zero.” 

Ano frowned slightly, then nodded. “I might not have put it like that, but the Avatar isn’t wrong, General. We’ve lost two out of the six ships for sure, and the _Lumiére_ will have to be towed if Varrick and his assistant can’t repair the engines. They’re over there now.” That had been Asami's idea. She thought it best that Varrick keep his distance from Iroh for the time being.

“Casualties?” Iroh asked. Asami could see him set his jaw, preparing himself.

“Seven hundred forty-six,” Ano said. Iroh closed his eyes. “Two hundred eighty-one dead, the rest wounded or missing, though it might have been a lot worse without Avatar Korra.” Ano nodded to Korra next to her. “Still, that makes for less than 250 who are fit for anything, only about forty of whom are benders. Whoever staffed this mission was incredibly light on the benders.”

 _“Fuck!”_ Iroh shouted, slamming his fist on the table. _“God-fucking-dammit!”_ The half-finished plate in front of him clattered. He put his face in his hand and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It’s just… all right. Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what have we tried?”

Asami reached over and put a hand on the hot back of his neck, squeezing slightly. Iroh let her. He usually didn’t like to advertise that they were together when they were working, but then again he usually didn’t scream swears or wear sweatpants at work, either. It seemed all bets were off.

If Ano was rattled by the outburst, she didn’t show it. Asami’s opinion of her went up a little. Instead, the older woman held up one hand and ticked off her fingers. “There have been three attempts so far. Your diplomacy mission, the first assault yesterday morning, and a second last night with only benders.” She then told Iroh what she’d already told Asami and the others about what had happened after he and Commander Cuzon had gone ashore. “We tried again last night with the Avatar and all of the benders who could be spared, including Mako and Miss Beifong as well, but I can’t say that we accomplished much. It was dark, and the rebels know the terrain. As soon as we scaled the cliffs their earthbenders brought down the path. It seems that some of them had hidden in one of the caves at the bottom of the beach. We used our own earthbenders to re-make the path, but by the time we got to the beach it was too late. They made off with all of our landing craft, four in all. Which, no doubt, was the point.” 

Iroh nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. Asami could tell he was angry, but it seems that he was trying to avoid another outburst. “They said something about wanting ships.” 

Mako narrowed his eyes. “You talked to them?” he asked.

“Yes, a little.”

“Iroh,” Korra asked. “Can we ask what happened to you now? I think it would help fill in the gaps.” 

Iroh looked a long time at Korra. “Yes,” he said eventually. “Commander Cuzon and I met a group of women and men from SWE almost as soon as we landed. It was clear that they knew we were coming. They don’t have a command structure like ours, it’s more like a big group discussion, but the person who did all the talking is a woman named Jashan, and I think she has a lot of power regardless. I made our purpose clear and Jashan invited us to discuss. But at the top of the cliffs they jumped us. It was quick; all I managed was the fire lance before they dropped me. One of their earthbenders trapped me in a stone box of sorts and moved me to one of their encampments. I don’t know which one, or where. They kept me there for two days, mostly in the box.” Asami tightened the hand on his neck. It sounded awful. Iroh was incredibly active, and got twitchy and depressed when he didn’t exercise enough; she couldn’t imagine how hard sitting still for that long had been for him.

“I believe that the idea was to use me as a hostage, but they ultimately decided against it because they thought it might provoke a response from the Fire Nation. I”—Iroh looked down at his thickly bandaged arm—“I wasn’t particularly interested in what they had planned for me instead, so I tried to do something about it once I heard I was almost out of time. And that’s right about when Bolin found me, I think.” Iroh looked to Bolin, who sat opposite her next to Ano. “Thank you,” he said, and Asami heard the sincerity in his voice. “Not a lot of men would have walked right into an enemy camp, Bolin. Even for a friend. It was damned brave.”

Bolin grinned as Opal beamed at him. “Any time, I. And it wasn’t just me. You should have seen Asami, man. She switched on that big magnet she and Varrick made and every metal object on the south side of that camp went flying. In a camp full of _metalbenders._ It was truly awesome. By the end everyone wearing any metal, which seemed to be about all of them, was all stuck together in a big pile, trying to wiggle free while getting pelted with their own forks and stuff. I doubt I’d have gotten in and out otherwise.”

Iroh leaned over and kissed her on the temple. “You amaze me,” he whispered into her hair. Asami felt herself blush.

“And don’t forget Pabu!” said Bolin. “I’d never have found you without him.”

“And thank you, Pabu,” Iroh said, turning his gaze to the little fire ferret curled on Bolin’s lap. At the sound of his name Pabu poked his white nose in the air and gave a little chirp. Iroh smiled. Pabu stood up and stretched, then hopped to the floor with a thump. A moment later Asami saw him reappear on Iroh’s lap. Iroh chuckled, then offered him the remaining half of his dinner roll. Pabu grabbed it eagerly with his sharp teeth, then settled down comfortably in Iroh’s lap to eat it. Iroh scratched him idly behind his ears.

“And what of Commander Cuzon and the others, General?” Ano asked. “We recovered nine from your original mission, but 14 of you went out.”

Iroh looked Ano in the eye. “I don’t know,” he said, but Asami could tell right away that he was lying. “I went down almost immediately, and there was nothing to see once I was inside the stone box.” He turned to Bolin. “Did you see any of them when you found me?” 

Bolin shook his head. “Just you. They might have been in other tents though. I used some quick earthbending to check for other pyramids like the one they had you in, but nada.”

“Commander Cuzon was an earthbender though, and so were his lieutenants,” Ano said. “They wouldn’t keep them in stone. They could still be there.”

“It’s possible,” Iroh said carefully. “We have no way of knowing though.”

“We have to try,” said LCDR Ano. “I think we go back tomorrow, with every bender we have and anything else Miss Sato and Varrick can come up with. We know where their camp is now. If we take the airship while it’s still dark, we might even surprise them. It could all be over in a few minutes.”

“No,” said Iroh. 

“No?”

“No,” he said resolutely. “First of all, they won’t be there. One reason they were so keen on having me executed is that they were planning to move camp and didn’t want to bother with prisoners.”

“Then we find them,” Ano said. “It shouldn’t be too hard if we use the airship to scout. Spirits knows why the fleet didn’t bring any airplanes.”

“The answer is still no, Lieutenant Commander,” Iroh said, shaking his head firmly. “Nothing has changed. These are people with legitimate grievances, and there are reasonable people among them. I still intend to try to negotiate.”

“What? General, you can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, I’m completely serious.” Iroh picked up his fork and took another bite of fish. 

“Iroh, are you sure?” asked Korra. “I guess it’s your call now, but I don’t think they want to be friends.”

“More than ever,” Iroh said. “Does this look like balance to you, Korra? They murder us, so we murder them back? I won’t have it.”

“But Iroh,” Asami said quietly. “Even after everything that’s happened?” She put her hand gently on his bandaged arm. She didn’t understand at all. She wanted to kill each and every person who had hurt him, the whole country if necessary. It had been so close. Someone had to answer for that, didn’t they?

“All the more reason that it should be me,” Iroh said to her. His gold eyes were serious. “I won’t be made a martyr. Enough people have died. I won’t make it so they died for nothing. I am at least going to talk to them. I’m going to try. And with your help, Asami, I think I have an idea of how to do it.” 

***

They lay together later on the narrow bed in Iroh’s old quarters. He’d insisted on going back there instead of to the infirmary and, after a change of bandages, had been grudgingly allowed to be discharged. The bed was a tight fit after all this time, but Asami didn’t mind. She lay curled around him, her head on his bare chest, his good arm wrapped around her back, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Iroh,” she said quietly into the dark. “How did they get the smackers? Ano didn’t ask, but I know you didn’t forget. And I know you lied to her earlier, about Cuzon. What didn't you want to tell her?”

Iroh didn’t answer. Asami moved her head a little and saw that he was already asleep. His chest rose and fell under her in a deep, slow rhythm. Spirits, it had only been five minutes. He must be exhausted. 

_Iroh, what aren’t you telling me?_ she thought as he breathed. _What are you hiding?_


	70. IROH

_281._

Iroh sat up as quietly as he could. He found that, after several days confined to a stone pyramid, his tolerance for laying awake and staring at the ceiling was entirely gone. The world swam a little as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pressed his bare feet into the cold metal of the floor, trying to use the sensation to steady himself. Spirits, he hated this. Iroh was hardly ever sick, and he knew he was a terrible patient because of it. He didn’t understand why his body wouldn’t simply do what he wanted.

_746._

Asami stirred slightly, but didn’t wake. Iroh got shakily to his feet, waited for the next wave of dizziness to pass, then turned and pulled the blanket up over her, careful to tuck in the corners. Then he got dressed as quickly and quietly as he could, stuffed a bag of his strongest tea in the pocket of his gray sweatpants, and headed out into the early morning chill. 

It felt wonderful to be outside. For a moment Iroh just stood there beside his door, letting the cold wind slap him in the face simply for the joy of it. He stretched, trying to take up as much space in the world as he possibly could. 

_746._ Iroh’s smile faded. He’d seen them in the infirmary, hollow eyes and bandaged limbs. Most might recover, but not all. 

_281._ There would be no cool wind in their faces again.

Iroh made his way slowly to the back deck.

He was surprised to find that about half the space was filled with an enormous airship. It had been tied down against the back railing with thick cables that strained as it swayed in the wind. Iroh knew that’s how Asami had gotten him back, but most everything after he’d… decided… was all a bit of a blur, and he’d had no idea how large the thing would seem up close. 

However, for what he needed there was still enough room to work with. Iroh decided to start with the basics. A few more stretches, then ease into the most basic fireforms. Kids’ stuff, really. But he was less than halfway through the first progression before everything kind of… faded. There was a tipping sensation, then a thud. Iroh was surprised to find himself sitting.

“What are you doing?” said a man’s voice. 

Iroh started, feeling guilty without knowing why. He turned to see Mako walking towards him from the direction of the wardroom, dressed in a loose-fitting red outfit Iroh had seen him work out in, a mug in one hand. “I… uh…”

“I thought you were supposed to be resting?” Mako said. “What the hell are you doing out here at six in the morning?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Iroh said, getting carefully to his feet. He recalled Asami saying that Mako wasn’t much for mornings.

“You could, but last I checked I didn’t try to kill myself yesterday. At least not on purpose.”

Iroh shrugged, then walked slowly over to one of the metal benches set into the wall of the ship and sat down heavily. He rested his chin on his fists. “I hate this.”

Mako walked over and sat next to him. “Couldn’t sleep either?” He took a sip from his mug, then grimaced. 

“Not much. I have a lot to think about. I find exercise helps with both, but as you can see I can’t manage much of that, either.”

“Yeah, I’d guess not.” Mako stared morosely down into his coffee. 

Iroh raised an eyebrow, then reached into his pocket for the teabag. “Trade you?” he said, and held out his other hand. “Grab me some water and your coffee will be piping hot when you get back.” Mako stuck out his lower lip a little, but handed his mug over. Iroh took it with a smile and got to work.

When Mako returned a few minutes later with a second mug of cold water, the coffee was steaming. “One day you’ll have to teach me that,” he said, swapping cups. “I could never get the hang of it.” 

“Of course.” Iroh got to work on his own water, gently pushing fire into his hands. It was nice to focus on something that felt achievable, even if it was only making a decent cup of tea. 

Mako took a sip of the hot coffee and closed his eyes, smiling. “That’s the ticket. Thanks, I.”

“Thank you for the tea.”

They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the wind and the waves. Iroh heard a seabird cry in the distance. 

“Mako, can I ask you something? It might sound odd, but I think it’s important.”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like to be poor?” Iroh saw his friend’s face tighten. He liked Mako, more than he ever thought he would considering how they’d started, but had always found the man somewhat self-contained. Whereas Bolin was more or less an open book, Mako was more like a sea chest. The inside was dark and deep, and if you weren’t careful lifting the lid it might pinch your fingers off. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to offend you. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Mako said nothing for a long moment. He took a careful sip of his coffee, his copper eyes suddenly guarded. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know, and that’s a problem,” Iroh said. “The people from SWE, the whole rebellion, it’s not hubris. I’ve read all the history, but even more than that, I’ve talked to them. And from what I can tell, they’re right. The United Forces might be on the wrong side of this thing entirely if our goal is to simply stop the rebellion and put things back the way they were. But there’s only so much someone like me can bring to the table if I don’t really understand what they want, or what would make it better. So, I want to understand.”

Mako gave him a surprisingly hard look. “Have you ever eaten your bending?”

“What?”

“That’s what I thought. I know you mean well, Iroh, but you’re so high up the food chain you don’t even know what the words mean, let alone what it’s like to live it. To trade your skill, the only thing you have, to stay alive. I bet you’ve never even been hungry.”

Iroh was hungry a lot, actually. He had a bad habit of getting distracted and forgetting to eat, then winding up starving at odd or inconvenient times. He’d been hungry a lot in the stone pyramid, too. But he knew this wasn’t what Mako meant. Iroh shook his head.

Mako took a big sip of his coffee. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, as if he’d already shared too much. Iroh said nothing. He knew if he pushed him, Mako was more likely to shut down than anything. He might not know what it was like to go hungry, but Iroh had spent a lot of time watching people, and was generally a good guesser. 

Finally, Mako spoke. “When Bolin and I’s parents died, we had three ways to eat: beg for it, steal it, or find a way to get paid under the table by someone who didn’t have a problem asking an eight-year-old to work. Which meant the triads, mostly. I consider myself lucky at having had even those choices. Non-bender kids had it worse. So did the girls.” 

Iroh thought of his own sister, who was just 14, and imagined her hungry. He imagined her trading her firebending for food, for money, her back hunched over a forge, her thin face growing pale with exhaustion in the basement of some power plant. Or trading other things. Then he thought of the little girl with the blocks, Illea. He suddenly understood how someone like Cuzon could be so terribly angry. 

“And it has a way of, I don’t know, forcing priorities, I guess,” Mako continued. “Like, the times there wasn’t enough, I made sure Bolin got it. I just did, no question. And when there wasn’t anything at all, I got it anyway, even when I knew it was wrong, because watching my little brother go hungry was so much more wrong than everything else.

“I think you get two kinds of people out of that. Adults, that is. You get people like Bolin, and maybe me I guess, who would do anything to protect what they love. Who have. And then you get people like Viper, who either never had anyone to love or just decided not to care. They would do anything, too. Not out of love, but because they’ve decided that they never, ever want to be powerless again. I honestly think it’s only those two types. And when you think about it, they’re not even all that different.”

Iroh nodded. He was pretty sure he knew which type Cuzon was, and Kjyn for that matter. He wasn’t as sure about Jashan. He took a sip of his tea, thinking. 

“I think you should let Korra do it,” Mako said suddenly.

“What?” 

“I think you should let Korra do the talking. With SWE. Negotiate, or whatever. If you’re really serious, turn it over to her as the Avatar.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Prince Iroh II of the Fire Nation, and your teabag there probably cost more than what those people spend in a week.”

“Actually, it’s—”

“It was just an example, I. It’s not your fault, either. But that’s who you are. So maybe it’s not the tea, but spirits, I don’t know how much that ring you gave Asami is worth, but it’s not exactly subtle, is it?”

Iroh thought that Asami could probably use her ring to buy most of the Southwest Earth Kingdom outright, but decided not to say that. “I wasn’t going for subtle.”

“Right, but that’s the point. No amount of reading and sympathy can make you an equal here. You’ll never be neutral, Iroh, not to them. But I think maybe Korra can be—as the Avatar, not as Korra, you understand.”

“But I’m—”

“Royalty, Iroh. You’re royalty.” Mako rubbed at the back of his neck and looked down. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to. There are two types of those, too, as far as I can tell. There are useless royalty, who sit behind their walls and eat sweets and go to parties, pretending like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Like Prince Wu, that twit who’s heir to the Earth Kingdom. I met him last year, he came to Republic City on a tour and required police guards, and all he wanted to do was drink sherry and chase women. And there are people like you, who try to use their power to do a little good. But… and I mean this with as much good will as I can say it… you’ll always have a lot more in common with Wu than you will with anyone from SWE. Or me.”

Iroh thought about that. He hated to think that Mako was right. He’d met Prince Wu a few times, too, and thought him a thoroughly worthless young man of the kind he’d always done his best to avoid. But the fact that he’d had to put effort into avoiding people like Wu only proved Mako’s point. For every Mako or Bolin or Cuzon, how many Wus did he know? Or for that matter, how many Asamis? When they’d first started dating she’d done the rounds with him in the higher echelons of Republic City society, less to announce they were a couple and more to simply introduce him to her acquaintances, and damned if Iroh hadn’t known three quarters of those people already. If he was honest with himself, the only people he knew well who weren’t rich were the members of Team Avatar and those he’d met in the military. He’d just never realized it before.

“And you’re saying that, no matter what I say, they won’t listen?” Iroh asked.

“I’m saying that SWE is fighting the Earth Queen, Iroh,” Mako said. “And no matter how good a guy you are, you look too much like she does. If you’re really serious about helping these people, if it’s not just about you being right or about winning, then the best way to fix this is to step back and use the right tool. Which isn’t you.”

“I see.” Iroh stared down at his tea. It seemed like every time he thought he learned more about something, it was only to realize exactly how much he’d missed. “I’ll speak to Korra then.”

“Speak to Korra about what?” said a voice. Iroh looked up to see Korra herself rounding the corner. She was dressed in what Iroh recognized as her training outfit, a loose-fitting pair of sky blue pants and a matching sleeveless top. She put her hands on her hips and looked the men up and down. “Tea time? I thought this was the exercise deck?”

Iroh chuckled. “I tried earlier. Happy to have another go, though.” He put his tea down and half rose, but the world started spinning again.

“Oh no you don’t, Fireball,” Korra said. “You can coach from over there. Mako, come here, let me have it.” Mako turned to Iroh and shrugged, then chugged the rest of his coffee and stood. Iroh leaned gratefully back against the cold metal, for once in his life content to simply watch.


	71. ASAMI

Asami found herself down in the battleship’s infirmary again. She’d woken up to find Iroh gone, but after her momentary panic had faded she’d decided to give him his space. He’d been through a lot, but more than that she knew that the news of what had happened in his absence weighed heavily on him. Almost as heavily as it did on her. Almost.

She thought she’d known what guilt was then as she walked the halls of Katara Healing Authority, Republic City’s largest hospital, in the aftermath of the Equalist rebellion. Besides heeding every call to donate blood or supplies, Asami had thought it important to visit the United Forces soldiers recovering in the hospital and generally make herself useful—chatting, fetching drinks, mailing letters (or in some cases writing them), etc. Most of the injured men and women were far from home, and considering the role that her family had played in the attack she considered it the least she could do. Volunteering also kept her busy. Busy was good.

The hospital had also been the last time she’d spoken to Iroh before he’d called her asking to borrow an airplane more than seven months later. He’d been General Iroh to her then, a passing acquaintance who’d been thrust into her world in the worst possible way. Still reeling from Mako’s desertion and her father’s betrayal, if someone had told her then that the stiff, quiet general would one day be everything to her she’d have laughed in their face. 

She’d found him, that last time, at the end of a long white hallway, staring at a sign that had been mounted to the wall. 

“General,” she'd nodded as she approached. He’d looked lost in thought, and she didn’t want to surprise him. 

He jumped a little anyway. “Ah, Miss Sato,” he’d said, turning to face her. The corner of his mouth turned up a little, and he gave her a slight bow. “I don’t suppose I could… have you been here much?” He nodded to the sign. 

“Can I help you find something?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me avoid something. Do you know if there is a back way out? I was here visiting, and I find myself being, um, hunted, I suppose you could say.” He rolled his shoulder and Asami heard the large bandage on his upper arm crinkle under his new uniform jacket. “I’m really fine, and I have too much to do to be stuck in a healing center. But my family helped fund the hospital, and that gives them a certain amount of influence. I’m afraid my mothers heard what happened and have sicced some healers on me. If you think one mother is overbearing, try having two.”

Asami tried to smile and General Iroh’s eyes went wide. He took a half step backwards and held up a hand. “I’m so sorry, Miss Sato. I didn’t think. I… I’m so sorry.” He looked mortified.

“It’s fine,” Asami said. Instead, she turned to look at the sign, trying to change the subject. It turned out to be a map to the facility’s various fire exits. “I think I can help, General. But wouldn’t it be faster to just let them fuss over you a little?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he said. 

Asami took another quick look at the map, then led the general down two flights of stairs to a plain white door with a bright red crossbar. The silver lettering on the bar read: EMERGENCY EXIT: ALARM WILL SOUND. 

“I’ve been here already,” said General Iroh, his strange golden eyes, so like and yet so unlike Mako’s, meeting hers. “I’m not going to trigger a fire alarm in a healing center just to save my own skin.”

“That’s where I come in,” Asami said. She ran her fingers along the door jamb, but there was no wire. _Damn. Plan B._ She turned back to General Iroh. He stood a little behind her, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration, obviously paying close attention to what she was doing. 

“I’ll need a coin, or something else thin and flat,” she said to him. “The bigger the better.” Iroh reached into his pocket, then pressed a single golden dragon into her open palm. Not a lot of people would have one of those lying around. Asami turned back to the door, placed it flat against the end of the crossbar, then slid it forwards until it slipped between the bar and the door. She slowly used her shoulder to depress the bar and, making sure not to move the coin, pushed open the door. The humid air of Republic City hit her in the face like a solid thing after the cool sterility of the hospital. 

“Where did you learn that?” Iroh asked.

“Mako.” 

The door opened into an alley that seemed to lead to the hospital’s loading dock. It was deserted. General Iroh leaned out, quickly glanced both directions, then stepped through. “Thank you,” he said, inclining his head to her. “I’m in your debt.”

Asami shook her head. “I have to keep your coin or the alarm will sound. So consider us even.” Iroh smiled at that, gave her a curt nod, then turned and strode off down the alley. Asami didn’t return the smile. He’d been nothing but kind to her the few times they had met, both right after her father and the Equalists had launched a surprise attack on his fleet and after they’d taken the airfield, but she found it hard to look him in the eyes all the same. Eyes that, even then, she’d noticed were unusually expressive. Eyes that carried their own guilt, as well. On her way out, she’d dropped General Iroh’s 100-yuan piece in the charity box in the lobby.

She knew, somewhere, intellectually, that it wasn’t her fault. That her father had acted in secret, and that she’d been just as much a victim as anyone else. But that wasn’t how it felt. There had been a thousand signs. There had to have been. And she, Asami, who was supposedly so smart, had missed every one. Worse, when Korra had come to her, she had actively denied it. What kind of scientist denies evidence? 

The kind who loves her father, perhaps. Who loves her father more than anything. But what was her excuse this time?

Asami spent more than two hours in the infirmary, helping the United Forces’ waterbending healers with whatever they thought she could handle. She didn’t know much about healing beyond the very basics, but she was strong and always said yes. But after a while, there was nothing much else to do. 

She wandered back up to the deck and went to Iroh’s quarters, but he was still gone. Asami shut the door and stripped off her clothes, which had a fair amount of blood and other unpleasant substances on them, and stepped into the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she turned on the shower. Her face was pale and drawn, mouth pulled too tight. For a moment she thought she looked closer to 40 than 20. She turned back as she undid her hair and tried to look, really look. Thick black hair, still with no trace of gray. An oval face that she’d always thought a touch too thin. Bright green eyes that hid… what, exactly? 

Asami had known that the smackers were dangerous. She hadn’t intended them that way when she’d invented them, but still. She might have designed them for smackball, but she couldn’t deny that the subsequent alterations had had combat in mind. And of course she hadn’t meant for them to be stolen, either, but she’d had no issue selling them to the United Forces. Exclusively, no less. Asami had tried to tell herself they were defensive, that they were no worse than bending, and that in that way they leveled the playing field. That it was more fair this way, if basic bending was accessible, and that it was okay as long as she was arming the good guys. Pema had even agreed with her, eventually. But is that really what adding more weapons to the world did? And would it have been different if the United Forces had used them against the people of the Southwest Earth Kingdom, simply because she didn’t know them, didn’t have to get their blood on her pants when she worked in the hospital? 

Asami stared at herself in the mirror until the steam clouded her image entirely. How many people had her father hurt because he didn’t want anyone to be a bender? And how many people had Asami hurt because, in the darkest and most desperate corner of her heart, that’s all she’d ever wanted to be?

After her father's imprisonment, Asami had wanted to make a name for herself in her own right. And she finally had: killer.


	72. VARRICK

Varrick knew he was hiding, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being bold. He’d gotten there by being smart. And right now, keeping as much distance between himself and one very angry firebender was unquestionably the smartest thing to do. 

The problem was, no matter how he looked, General Iroh wasn’t stupid, either. Varrick didn’t make many mistakes, but he admitted that thinking otherwise had been one of them. There were hundreds of people at Republic City Central Command, thousands in the United Forces, but for some reason he’d picked General Iroh to pitch his hand mecha to. All he’d asked for was some seed funding, a little investment. It wasn’t a Future Industries knock-off, either, no matter what Asami Sato said. Really, she should be flattered that he was so inspired by what she’d done. After all, the greatest scientists and inventors in the world only got there by building upon the work of others. And if perhaps he hadn’t mentioned to General Iroh that he hadn’t gotten his own hand mecha to work yet, that was just good marketing. 

But Iroh hadn’t bought it, literally or figuratively, and everything after that point had been a kind of slow nightmare for Varrick. First, the general had confiscated his demo piece. Then he’d threatened to turn Varrick into a dustbin full of ash if he ever stole from Miss Sato again. Barely two weeks later he’d gotten the call, which had set up the meeting with the man in the hat. It wasn’t often that Varrick got an advance, and it would hardly have been smart to turn that down, but sometimes he wondered. Before he knew it he was in over his head, selling his surplus to the Triple Threat Triad, taking money from Hiroshi Sato himself, and all the while looking over his shoulder to see who was going to rain down fire and brimstone first, the cops or a tall man in a red coat. 

To his surprise, the fire and brimstone had instead come from Asami Sato herself, who after a lot of yelling had basically kidnapped him. Varrick liked Asami though. She wasn’t exactly his type—she was too tall, and her shoulders were too big—but he found her periodically useful, and not unintelligent. Yet she had a habit of getting irrationally angry about very silly things, like who had what idea first or who stole who’s mecha tanks in the context of starting a war to make a profit. What people like Asami didn’t realize is that knowledge always compounded, and that in the long arc of history it really mattered very little who was responsible for an idea and quite a bit more who got the credit. Varrick was all about credit. That’s why he’d invested in the movers. There was a whole screen of credits, and as the sponsor his name was whatever size he wanted it to be.

Still, he had to admit that Asami scared him a little. She had a way of looking at you, when she was really angry, that made you feel like she was thinking about removing all your bones, one by one, very slowly, and could probably figure out how to do it. But even so, she didn’t scare him half as much as General Iroh did. Varrick was pretty sure that, beneath his rather bulging cro-magnon exterior, he was nothing but fire. Which was, of course, why Varrick was hiding in the engine room of the battleship, _Lumiére_.

“Ready to try it again, sir?” Zhu Li said. She crawled out from behind the thick piping that covered the back wall of the room and wiped her forehead. Varrick like that Zhu Li was so small, and could fit in handy corners. He’d never understood the purpose of a large assistant.

“How’s it going?” Varrick heard the clang of boots on metal and turned to see Asami Sato walking towards him. She was dressed in dark gray pants and a burgundy top under a dark gray jacket. She had nice legs, he’d give her that much, but with all that red and gray she’d clearly been spending too much time with the United Forces. Though if there was ever someone who should have a battleship named after them, it was probably Asami Sato. Maybe when they got back to Republic City he’d ask Zhu Li to order her a makeover as a way to smooth out their business relationship. He’d even give her the name of his tailor, and he hardly ever gave that to anybody.

“We’ve cleaned up the flame retardant and replaced most of the burst copper piping,” Zhu Li said, adjusting her glasses. “The gauges all exploded though.”

“And we’ve fitted the butt with your airship boosters,” Varrick said. 

“What?” said Asami. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You _what,_ Varrick?”

“It’s called the stern, sir,” said Zhu Li.

“Butt, stern, whatever,” said Varrick. “The point is that it’s genius. After all, nobody said that we had to repair the engines. I believe the idea was to make the boat go, no?”

“It’s a ship, sir,” said Zhu Li. 

“Boat, ship, duck, they all float once I’m done with them,” Varrick said. 

For some reason, Asami’s scowl deepened. “But Varrick, we’re still using the airship.”

“Nobody told me to fix the airship.” Really, after tacking those vulgar things on the back of his blimp, she could hardly expect him not to do the same to her boat. Ship. Whatever.

Asami rubbed her face with one hand. “Fine,” she sighed. “I suppose we don’t need the boosters now. The _Lumiére,_ you think she’ll make it back to Republic City?”

“No idea!” Varrick said. “That’s the joy of experimentation. Or, when we’re talking about movement, experi _mo_ mentation. I’ve copyrighted that.”

Asami shook her head, looking glum, then turned to his assistant. “Zhu Li, if you say it’ll sail, I believe you. Thank you.” She looked back at Varrick. “I think.”

Well, now was as good a time to ask as any. “So, seeing as you’re so grateful, I wonder if it’s, er, safe? To return to the airship. I’m in desperate need of a change of clothes, and it’s time for Zhu Li to cut my nails.” 

Asami gave him a funny look, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Iroh all morning. You can’t avoid him forever though.”

“I can if we leave. I’m really very good at hiding.”

“I still need the airship, Varrick.”

Varrick put his hands on his hips. “You can’t hold me hostage.”

Her eyes flashed. “Then by all means tell that to Iroh, who just got done being a hostage himself because you have all the judgement of a slug fly! And after that, you can tell it to the families of everyone who never got off that beach.”

“You can hardly blame me for that, Asami. After all, _my_ mecha never hurt anyone. Recently.”

He seemed to have touched a nerve. She flushed and balled her fists, looking for all the world like she was actually going to attack him. He took a step back and to the right, trying to position Zhu Li a bit more between him and the angry engineer. Zhu Li was tough. But then Asami seemed to… deflate, somehow, like the time his favorite pool float had popped when he’d jumped on it. She walked over to one of the big valve wheels on the floor and sat, putting her chin in her hands.

To his surprise Zhu Li turned on him. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, sir,” she said. Her grey eyes were hard. Then she walked over to where Asami sat and knelt down next to her.

“It’s all right,” Asami said. “He’s not wrong.”

“I’m rarely wrong,” Varrick said. Zhu Li glared at him in a way that he understood meant he should stop talking. 

“It’s all my fault,” said Asami. She stared at the floor. “My father, my mecha, my engagement making Iroh a target. Everything points back to me.”

“That’s stupid,” Varrick said. 

Asami looked up at him. “What?”

“I said, that’s stupid. Honestly, I thought you were better than that.”

Asami shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to brag, but I have a lot of experience being the reason that everything goes haywire, and yet taking none of the blame for it. In the best possible way, you understand. It’s called disruptive innovation.”

“Dis-what?”

“Disruptive innovation. And the key is, disruptive. It’s a verb. A verb implies action! Like in the movers. Do you think anyone would have seen a mover called Nuktuk: The Guy Stuff Happened To? No! It was the _Adventures_ of Nuktuk. And while adventures isn’t a verb, it’s definitely an action.”

Asami frowned at him. “Varrick, I have literally no idea what you’re talking about. And disruptive is an adjective.”

Varrick sighed. Some people. “Let me put this in small words then. You. Didn’t. _Do._ Anything. There’s no action. No verb. The things you listed, they happened _to_ you.”

“But I—”

“Are you in the United Forces?”

“No, but I—”

“Did you give that hand mecha to those people in the worthless dirt country?”

“No, but—”

“Did you ask your father to assassinate your fiancé for you because you realized that he’s a big scary man who shoots fire out of his fists and were secretly afraid that he’d spend the rest of his life making you eat weird Fire Nation food with wiggly things in it and slowly turning your already considerably unvaried wardrobe entirely red and forcing you to have babies that would also shoot fire at you?”

“What? That doesn’t even make—”

“Exactly!” Varrick clapped his hands, satisfied that he’d made his point. But to his dismay, Asami only looked baffled. Maybe she wasn’t as intelligent as he’d thought. She shook her head, then stood.

“I’m going back to the command ship,” she said. “I’ll talk to Iroh, Varrick. I… have some things to say to him anyway, I guess. But until then, best stay over here.” She glanced aside at his assistant. “And listen to Zhu Li.” With that she turned and left, her boot heels clanging on the metal of the engine room floor.

Varrick dusted off his hands, then turned to Zhu Li. “What do you say we fire this boat up, then, and see if she flies?”

Zhu Li smiled. “Yes, sir.”


	73. IROH

Iroh spent the rest of the morning at the big table in the Map Room. He’d spent the time organizing his thoughts, taking notes of things to tell Korra, and trying to condense everything he’d learned about Southwest Earth Kingdom from his research and from Cuzon into something that the Avatar would actually read. He’d done a lot more reading of briefs than writing them lately, and though that hadn’t always been the case he was out of practice. A few versions lay stacked to the side of his current draft, with various cross-outs and edits and scribbled drawings. Iroh knew he was a terrible artist, but thought that bringing in some of the spatial elements was important. Maybe he could get Asami to do it if he explained what he wanted. With all her drafting skills, she was a lot better than he was. 

He hadn’t seen Asami all morning though. By the time he’d gotten back from watching Korra and Mako’s sparring session, she’d been gone. She hadn’t been in the wardroom when he’d gone for a late breakfast, either, and no one that he ran into had seen her. But Iroh hadn’t looked very hard. He’d heard from Korra that Asami had stayed in the infirmary with him nearly the entire time he was down there. If she needed some space now, he told himself that was all right with him. Any nagging thoughts about her possibly avoiding him, and what that might mean, he did his best to ignore.

It was, however, mildly inconvenient. Iroh had been trying to find a time to tell Asami in confidence the full story of what had happened. The Agni Kai, his deal with Cuzon, the man’s betrayal, what he’d learned about her father, where he’d gotten the razorblade, everything. He didn’t know why he hadn’t wanted to say these things to LCDR Ano, or even in front of the rest of Team Avatar, but he hadn’t. But Iroh didn’t like keeping things from Asami, and moreover couldn’t think of a single example where doing so had worked out for the better. He also wanted her honest take about whether to share any of these things with, at minimum, Korra, before they tried for negotiations again. He trusted Asami’s opinion, and she often saw angles that he didn’t.

It was nearly noon when there was a knock at the door to the Map Room. Iroh called to come in, and Asami walked cautiously into the room. She had her hair back, and looked as if she’d been out in the wind. Maybe she’d simply been getting some air?

“Hey,” Iroh said, brightening. “Not avoiding me anymore?” He meant it as a joke, but Asami didn’t smile. He felt a little niggle of worry in his gut. _Had_ she been avoiding him?

"Korra said you were in here." Still no smile.

Iroh decided to go for the direct approach. Perhaps if he told her about Cuzon and the rest, whatever was keeping Asami distant would come out as well? “I have something to—” He cut off, realizing that he and Asami had seemingly spoken the same words at the same time.

“...tell you,” Asami finished. She pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear, and for the first time since he’d been back Iroh looked at her, really looked. The day before he’d been so out of it he could barely see straight. In fact, his memories from the time after he’d cut himself to the previous evening were mostly tactile. The throbbing pain in his left arm that gradually faded into numbness. The feel of Bolin’s strong shoulder supporting him. The cool sheets of the infirmary bed. And Asami, Asami all around him, a warm weight curled against his body, a soft hand running through his hair, a constant presence reminding him that he was not, in fact, dead, and had every reason and the best reason in the world to be otherwise. After they’d stopped sedating him, he’d been so tired and distracted he was content to simply know she was nearby. But now that he looked, he recognized the strain on her face. The new lines around her eyes, dark circles like she hadn’t slept well. Makeup a little thicker than usual, as if trying to hide her pallor. The corners of her mouth turned down slightly. It wasn’t just tired, or stressed. It was a sad look. The look of someone who’d lost something. Or someone.

Iroh would have thought that now that they were together she’d be happy. The few quiet kisses they’d shared had given him every reason to think that she’d missed him as much as he had her, but he’d also spent a lot of their time together asleep. What if, for some reason, something had changed? After all, they hadn’t really talked much yet.

Iroh thought suddenly about his arm. It would scar for sure. He’d tried to be neat about it, but the cuts had been deep, and there was no way to do that to yourself perfectly cleanly. At the time he’d thought it was the right thing to do, but that was when he thought his choices were between death and death. And now? No one would ever mistake a scar like that for anything other than what it was. No one would ask the story. They would simply assume. It was the mark of a coward, of someone who couldn’t hack it, who chose the easy way out, and he’d bear it all his life. As would Asami’s husband. Unless, maybe she didn’t want that?

Or maybe it was bigger than that? The expedition into SWE marked the fourth time Iroh had been captured in the two years he’d known her; first by her father outside the Future Industries hangar, then by Unalaq at the South Pole, then by Shao and the Triple Threat Triad, and finally here. Iroh knew it was because he’d taken calculated risks that many wouldn’t, but maybe she no longer saw it that way? 

Asami had always called him brave. It was silly, but it made Iroh puff up a little every time he heard it. Something about a smart, beautiful woman looking at you with her big green eyes and calling you _brave_ just… he didn’t know why, but it was one of the best feelings in the world. But what if he’d gone too far? What if she now thought he was reckless, or worse, just stupid? After all, in any conflict, from Pai Sho to war, wasn’t being captured just another word for losing?

And finally, there was the invasion itself. Iroh still believed that he’d done the right thing by giving negotiations a chance, but that didn’t change the fact that his actions had gotten people killed. Not just the party that had scaled the cliffs with him, either. LCDR Ano was a good soldier, but Iroh had no doubt at all in his mind that if he’d commanded the invasion as he’d been ordered to they wouldn’t have lost half as many men. He probably wouldn’t have invaded in the first place, but if he had, he’d never have gone for the kind of predictable frontal assault she had tried. But Iroh hadn’t been in charge. He hadn’t been there. And however noble his intentions, hundreds of men and women had likely died because of it. He was the General of the United Forces, and no matter the odds, and how he’d been sidelined and undercut at every turn, the mission had been his responsibility. He’d failed them. What army, or person, would want a man like that?

All these thoughts flashed through Iroh’s head in the awkward silence. “Ladies first,” he said finally, bracing himself. He clenched his jaw, hoping to take whatever she had to say with dignity. Then he noticed that Asami wasn’t wearing her ring. 

Something inside him crumpled at the sight of that naked hand, a crushing weight around his heart so strong he almost couldn’t breathe. 

“Asami?”


	74. ASAMI

“Come in.” Asami opened the door of the room Korra had called the command center to find Iroh seated at a square central table surrounded by books and papers. He’d clearly been writing, and she saw several pages with various scratch outs and scribbles set off to the side, as if discarded. Thankfully, there was nothing wrong with his writing hand. 

“Hey,” Iroh said, looking up. Asami saw he was still dressed casually, this time wearing the dark red t-shirt with gold lettering that read “UNITED FORCES: I LIKE BIG BOATS” which she’d gotten him as a gag gift for his birthday. “Not avoiding me anymore?” 

"Korra said you were in here." For some reason Iroh frowned slightly. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. But Asami was here anyway, so there was no helping it now. And she needed to talk to him. As much as she dreaded his reaction, after what Iroh had been through he had a right to know the whole story. She’d delayed long enough, and had come back from her bizarre conversation with Varrick determined to find him and tell him everything.

“I have something to—” Asami paused. Iroh had said exactly the same thing. He stopped as well. “Something to tell you,” she finished. 

Iroh was looking at her strangely, his gold eyes bright in his too-pale face. As she’d talked he’d seemed to sort of tense up, his jaw going rigid. Asami recognized it as the look he got when he had bad news. What had Korra said once? That Iroh wore his heart on his face? It was true enough. Sometimes Asami wondered how on earth she’d had no idea at all that he’d been interested in her romantically until he’d actually kissed her. Scratch that, until well _after_ he’d kissed her. It had been a spectacular act of self-doubt and denial on her part. 

“Ladies first,” Iroh said quietly. Then he looked her up and down and actually flinched. Asami felt a tightening in her chest. He must already blame her for the deaths, then. Iroh was smart, after all. It was one of the things she loved about him. Not just the reading, but his thinking, his ability to put things together. He was _sharp._ Iroh made connections, and often realized the implications of a course of action long before anyone else. It’s what made him a great commander, a great partner, and truly terrible at small talk. 

She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d already run the scenarios then. Iroh loved scenarios. The whys and what ifs of the world. It was his approach to firebending all over again. If you moved into one form, what choice followed? And then what? And then? But one could do the same for a lot of things. A war, for example. A disaster. What if a young woman who wanted to make a name for herself, a woman who could never bend, invented something that wasn’t a weapon, but could be? What choice followed? Why, she could decide to make a weapon, of course. Despite everything her father had done, and everything that had attracted her to the reconstruction work at the RCCC in the first place, she had chosen to make a weapon anyway. And then what? She could choose to hone it, perfect it, and sell it. And then? Why, people would use the weapon, of course. They may not be the people she’d had in mind, but people would use it all the same. And what happened when people used weapons? If you traced the logic back, everything that had happened hinged on decisions that she had knowingly, willingly made.

“Asami?” Iroh almost choked her name out. It seemed like he could hardly look at her now. Asami felt herself shrink back, suddenly unsure what her next words would bring. She thought about what Iroh had said after the headquarters of the Triple Threat Triad had burned, about how he’d had deaths on his conscience because of her. And now? There were _hundreds._ And they weren’t gangsters, either. People had died, Iroh’s people, people he had known and she knew felt responsible for. And it was her fault.

And the worst part was, he still didn’t know the half of it.

Asami crossed the room, forcing herself to move, to keep going. She pulled out the chair next to him with a long metallic scrape that seemed to echo in the tense silence, and sat. She swallowed hard, then forced herself to look him in the eyes. In the few moments it had taken her to sit, Iroh’s bad news face had changed into something that looked closer to agony. Yet she had to tell him. Better to simply get it over with, and then deal with it, whatever “it” was. At least then his reaction would be concrete, actionable. Even if it meant… she hardly could think it. But anything to stop the way that he was looking at her now.

“It wasn’t an accident,” she spit out suddenly. “The first mission, where you wanted to talk. It wasn’t an accident that it failed, that they attacked you and the others. That… that they took you.” She found she couldn’t meet his eyes anymore and looked down. “It was my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My… my father, Iroh. He paid for the fakes, the ones that let the real mecha be stolen. Even from prison, he somehow found a way. But he doesn’t care about SWE, about any of it. It was about me.” She was talking fast now, she couldn’t stop. “He hates firebenders, and you in particular, and he found out I was going to marry you and that everything would merge and that for all intents and purposes you’d co-own all of it. Everything of mine that had been his. So that was the deal. The fake mecha for you. To take you. To kill you. Because of me. They lured you out there. And everything that happened to you, everyone who died, the days in that pyramid, the… the choice you had to make, and what almost happened. It was me, it was all because of me.” 

Silence. Then finally, Iroh spoke. “I know.”

Asami looked up, startled. Iroh was staring at her, his brows furrowed. “You know?”

“Yes,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have put it that way. I already knew Hiroshi paid for the duplicates, that his price was that I die in the fighting, and that the reason was likely that he objected to my marrying you.” Iroh looked at her carefully and cocked his head, his pained expression shifting into something more worried. “Asami, that’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes. Why?”

“But you’re not wearing your engagement ring. And you said… was.”

Asami looked down at her hand. She’d taken it off to go help out in the infirmary. She’d been so upset and distracted that she must have forgotten to put it back on after she showered. _Was?_ She didn’t know what Iroh meant there at all. “I was working this morning,” she said. “I didn’t want to damage it. I was thinking about… about a lot of things, and I must have forgotten to put it back on after. It’s in the top drawer of your nightstand.”

“And you still…” Iroh trailed off, looking down at his bandaged arm, then back up at her, “... still want me?”

What kind of a stupid question was that? “Iroh, what?”

He looked down again, this time at the floor. “I’m not sure I would.”

 _He_ thought that _she_ wouldn’t want _him?_ “Iroh, what are you talking about?” 

“Everything,” he choked. His voice sounded rough, and he still wouldn’t look at her. “I thought, with everything that happened, and I keep being captured, and it’s going to scar, but it’s not a good scar, it’s not a brave scar, and Asami, oh spirits, _Asami I couldn’t save them._ ” 

And Iroh broke. 

He put his face in his hands and sobbed. Big, wracking sobs that shook his whole body. For a moment Asami was stunned. She’d seen Iroh upset, but never like this. Then she raked her chair forwards, everything else forgotten, and wrapped her arms around his back. He shuddered as she hugged him tight, leaning into her embrace, his skin hot even through his shirt. She rested her cheek between his shoulder blades and just held him as he rocked against her.

“Is that really what you thought?” she asked, after he’d quieted some. He nodded, his face still buried in his hands. She released him with a squeeze, then sat back in her chair, facing him. 

“Iroh. Iroh, look at me.” Somewhat reluctantly, he looked up. His eyes were puffy in his tear-stained face, the end of his nose red. She reached out and pushed his hair back, then put one hand on either cheek. “Listen to me,” she said, bringing their faces together. “Iroh, it’s not your fault.” Iroh said nothing. Asami leaned forwards and kissed him on one eyelid, then the other, tasting salt. “Iroh,” she said again. She rested her forehead against his, their noses just brushing. “Say it with me. It’s not your fault.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Iroh said. One corner of his mouth turned up. “See what I did there?”

Asami felt herself smile a little. She couldn’t help it. “Very funny.”

Iroh reached up and took both her hands. “I mean it,” he said. His smile was gone now, his face serious. “Asami, it’s not your fault, either. You’re not your father. You never were, and you never will be.”

It was her turn to look away. “How do you know?”

“Because I talked to him.” Her eyes flicked back to his. _He had?_ Iroh, seeing the question in her face, nodded. “I went to see him in prison, right before I left. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but at the time I didn’t think you needed anything else to think about.”

Suddenly she understood. “You told him. That’s how he knew we were engaged.”

Iroh nodded again. “Yes. I know it sounds old fashioned, but it didn’t feel right to me otherwise. And Asami, I didn’t want to tell you, but he has no remorse. At least not yet. That’s how I know you’re not him. Look at you. I can see it now, you’re tearing yourself up as much as I am, maybe more. You’re not your father because you care about wrong and right, and you know the difference, too. You’re a good person, Asami. That’s why I love you. Everything you did, you were trying to help people. You usually are.”

“So were you.”

Iroh chuckled a little. “Look at us,” he said, shaking his head. He reached out and cupped her cheek, then brushed it lightly with his thumb. “Maybe we’re both a little hard on ourselves.”

“So what did you want to tell me, Iroh?” 

But Iroh shook his head. “Let’s start over. Both of us, from the beginning. There’s so much I feel like I missed, and so much I need you to know. But you first. From the day I walked out the door, Asami, tell me everything. And I promise I’ll do the same.”

She nodded. “All right.” Then she laughed a little. “But I have to warn you, it starts with stealing your pillow.”

Iroh raised his eyebrows, then broke into a smile. "Good,” he said. “I like that pillow. I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else. So tell me, what happened next?”

And then they talked. Asami told him everything, from not being able to sleep without him to her frustrations with his replacement to how she’d carried around his goodbye letter as a kind of good luck charm. His face when white as she told him how her tea with Bolin had ended with her abduction, and he was shocked how his simple act of kindness to the families of the sailors who had died in the sinking of the _Monkfish_ had won Asami her freedom, and Mo’s assistance besides. She told him about confronting Varrick, how hard she’d tried to reach the fleet, and everything she’d learned and done on her way to SWE. She told him about how she’d felt when Ano had said he’d gone missing, and her and Bolin’s last desperate attempt to find him behind enemy lines. And finally, she told him about the guilt, about how she blamed herself for everything, for the mecha and her father and not being able to reach him in time. 

Then Iroh did the same. He told her about the loneliness of his journey, and the endless days he’d spent in the command center, which he called the Map Room, desperately trying to find a way to end the conflict. She felt a jolt when he told her about Commander Cuzon’s betrayal; she’d never liked the man, but she’d been far from thinking him a traitor. She was less surprised to learn that Iroh’s terrible bruising hadn’t come from his captivity at all, but from fighting Cuzon for the right to go get captured in the first place. That sounded very much like something Iroh would have done. She watched his face as he talked about learning of the deaths of his companions, then of the fate of much of the rest of the fleet, and her heart almost broke at the pain she saw there. But she stopped him when he told her about Cuzon’s offer to marry him to someone in SWE to save his life.

“I would have understood,” Asami said. She shook her head. “I would have been devastated, Iroh, but I would have understood. And what’s more, I would have wanted you to do it. Spirits, Iroh, how could you have said no?”

“Because I’m selfish,” he said simply.

“What? How is that selfish?”

“I didn’t turn him down for you. I did it for me. I intend to live a life worth living, Asami, or not at all.” Iroh smiled at her, more with his eyes than his mouth, and she felt his fingers brush the finger where her ring should be. “And that includes you, as long as you’ll have me.”

Then he told her about his last conversation with Cuzon. About finding the blade, how he’d tried to guess what kind of death would make her the most proud. How in the end, he’d thought that she wouldn’t want to hear that he’d suffered, but that now he thought that the scars would mark him a coward. And that, with everything that had happened, how he’d failed, she’d be ashamed of him. Asami had hugged him again at that, pulling him close, trying to tell him with far more than words that would never, ever be true.

***

Asami was down in the infirmary again when a young ensign brought her a note. She quickly washed her hands, then took the slip of folded paper with a word of thanks. She opened it and immediately recognized Iroh’s neat printing. 

_Meet me outside my quarters at 18:30._

_Dress nice._

_Iroh._

She’d left Iroh asleep several hours earlier. He’d grudgingly agreed to rest after their talk, and had been fast asleep almost as soon as he’d laid down. But he’d almost certainly be up by now. Asami glanced up at the clock and saw it was nearly 6:00. Better get moving.

She cleaned up and headed back up to Iroh’s quarters. He was nowhere to be seen though. Asami rummaged in her bag, but she hadn’t brought anything that she’d exactly consider nice. She thought briefly of checking with Opal, then laughed to herself at the idea she’d fit in anything that the petite airbender may have brought. After some thought she settled for re-doing her makeup and putting on her cleanest pair of pants, tall boots, and a sweater. They were far enough south that it was cool in the evenings even in summer, especially with the ever-present wind. She had no idea what Iroh had in mind though. They hadn’t exactly stood on ceremony with LCDR Ano, but perhaps now that Iroh was out of the infirmary he wanted their meetings to be a little more formal? 

It was an idea that got all the more plausible when she opened the door at 6:30 to find Iroh dressed once again in his red uniform. She could tell it was his spare—it was a bit tight in the shoulders, and anyway the jacket he’d worn to SWE had been lost, seeing as he hadn’t been wearing it when Bolin had found him. He looked like he’d recently showered, his thick hair combed neatly back. Though he was still a bit too pale, he stood up straight, and she was glad to see it seemed like he had a bit more energy than even earlier that day. Or perhaps simply a little less weight on his shoulders.

Iroh gave her a big smile. “Hey, beautiful.” Asami looked down at herself, then over at him. It really wasn’t fair, having a uniform. But pants and a fuzzy green sweater was as good as it was going to get. 

“You clean up nice yourself,” she said, walking over to him. “So what’s this all about?”

To her surprise Iroh took her hand, then bent down and kissed it. “Follow me,” he said, and reached down to pick up a sack that she hadn’t noticed. He led her by the hand towards the front of the ship. The wind had died down a little, but it was still blowing hard enough that once they hit the open deck it made immediate shambles of Iroh’s hair. It flopped forwards into his face in a thick dark mop. He laughed, then pushed it back out of his eyes with one hand. It immediately blew back onto his forehead. 

For some reason the gesture reminded Asami forcibly of the first time she’d taken Iroh sato racing. Somewhat to her surprise, he’d loved it. He was also good at it. Asami was far better, of course, and easily beat him around the track once she let him go solo. But it was closer than she’d thought it would be. It seemed that quick reflexes from a lifetime of firebending had made him good at things like judging distances and drifting turns, and once he’d figured out the basics enough to be confident he was as daring as she was. 

“You drive like you fly,” she’d said, stepping out of her new yellow sato. “Which is to say, utterly fearless despite having no idea what you’re doing. You’re terrifying.”

And he’d grinned at her, just like that, and pushed his windblown hair out of his eyes. “Terrifyingly _fast,_ you mean,” he’d laughed, striding over to put his arms around her waist. How long ago that felt now, and how oddly young they had both seemed. Yet it had been little more than a year. 

“A bit brisk,” Iroh said happily, pulling her out of the memory. He’d always liked being out of doors, but had seemed to even more so lately. “But we’ll manage. Come on, this way.” 

Instead of going to the wardroom or the place he called the Map Room though, Iroh led her to the very prow of the ship. At first, Asami didn’t know what she was looking at. Someone had piled up a number of wooden boxes into a kind of L-shape, with a white box in the middle. As they got closer, Asami saw that it wasn’t a white box at all, but a box covered with a tablecloth. Someone had set out two plates with cutlery and two glasses of water, as well as an unlit candle in the center.

“Here we are,” Iroh said with a smile. “Will you join me?” He walked around to the side of the makeshift table and sat down on one of the boxes. He looked up at her and patted the seat next to him, then reached over and lit the candle with the tips of his fingers. 

“Iroh, what is this?” Asami asked. She walked over and sat next to him. The boxes, she realized, had been arranged upwind to make a kind of windbreak, leaving the table in relative calm while providing a view of the sunset to the west.

“It’s a date,” Iroh said. He reached down next to him, presumably into the sack, and pulled out a bunch of what looked like fresh herbs tied together with brown twine. He handed it to her. “I’m afraid there aren’t any flowers on the ship,” he said, “but I know you like green, and it smells very good. It was the best I could manage.” He looked at her hopefully. “Maybe if you close your eyes you can pretend?” 

Asami threw her arms around Iroh’s neck and kissed him. After a half second of surprise he kissed her back, hard. 

“Eh-HEM,” said a voice behind her. Asami pulled away and turned to see Bolin standing behind them. His cheeks were a little pink. “Aren’t you supposed to wait until the end of dinner for that stuff, I?”

Iroh grinned a little sheepishly. “Perhaps.” 

“Just checking if you guys need anything else?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” said Iroh. “Thank you.”

Bolin smiled. “Sure thing! If you change your mind, just yell. I don’t want you carrying anything, I’m serious.” And with that, he walked off towards the back of the ship.

“Tuna sandwich?” Iroh asked, reaching back down into the sack. “I’m afraid I took the trouble of ordering for you, but I made it myself.” He placed two folded napkins on the table, presumably containing the sandwiches.

“Iroh, you’re supposed to be resting! How did you do all this?”

“I didn’t, I promise!” Iroh held up both hands, palms out. Asami heard his bandage crinkle under his coat. “Bolin did most of the work, actually. He told me once that if I ever needed help being a hopeless romantic, he was my man, and I finally decided to take him up on it. I just hope one day that I can return the favor.” Iroh picked up the little bouquet of herbs and held it out to her again. He smiled somewhat shyly. “It seems like he and I might have that in common.”

Asami grinned and took it, tucking it behind her ear. The air filled with the smell of rosemary and sage. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” Iroh said. He unwrapped the sandwiches as he talked, putting one on her plate and then his own. “And I thought it might be nice. To have something, something that felt normal, or almost. Just the two us.”

Asami reached out and took his hand in both of hers. Behind him the sun sank slowly into the glittering sea. “Iroh, it’s perfect.” 

After their simple dinner they walked back towards the main body of the ship, talking quietly, acting for all the world like they were strolling along the streets of Republic City instead of the deck of a battleship. Asami carried the dishes and he the candle and white tablecloth, neither of them willing to ask Bolin or anyone else to clean up after them. The sun was well and truly set now, the sky purpling to reveal the very first stars, and whether by chance or arrangement they seemed to have the deck to themselves.

Once they’d dropped the dinner things off in the kitchens, Iroh led her back to his quarters. Though she’d been staying there since she arrived, it almost felt like it had in the beginning, when they’d first started dating. Iroh opened the door and then stepped back, inviting her into his little world, such as it was; a little shy, a little excited. Yet it was also completely different. There was no fumbling now, no urgency. They undressed each other slowly in the dim light, as if each unwrapping something precious. Asami knew every inch of his body now, all its planes and textures, his hot skin so familiar under her fingers. The mystery was gone, replaced with the almost primal comfort of only the most deeply loved; a favorite blanket, a childhood home. Older, perhaps, and a bit more battered, but somehow all the more dear for it.

“Iroh,” she said, pulling away from his mouth. She put one hand on his left bicep, tracing her fingers over the large burn scar already there, then down past his elbow to the top of his bandages. “I’d like to see it.”

Iroh’s face was hard to read in the semi-darkness. “Are you sure? It’s only been two days. Even with healing, it won’t be pretty.” Asami nodded. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, then pulled at the end of the bandage and started to unwind it. Asami came and sat beside him, wrapping one arm around his back. 

It was awful. Waterbending had closed the cuts, but not much more than that. A thick, puckered T started at his wrist, running almost perfectly straight up his arm until it twisted slightly near the elbow. Of course, Iroh did almost everything with precision. The center of the barely healed cut was still a deep, angry red. 

Asami turned and hugged him fiercely. She couldn’t imagine the courage it would take to do that, to cut into yourself, and keep cutting, because you knew that the alternative was worse. “Oh, Iroh,” she whispered into his ear, “spirits, you’re so brave.” She felt him pull her tight. 

They made love quietly in the dark, taking their time, Asami pressing Iroh onto his back to keep him from using his arm or exerting himself too much. Yet it was all the more intense for their care. And as they finished together, shaking against each other, she felt the loneliness and the fear, the stress and the guilt and the hurt of the last few weeks finally break against that sudden release. 

After, for the first time since Iroh went away, her back tucked snug against the curl of his body, Asami dreamed.


	75. IROH

Instead of sending a messenger, LCDR Ano herself found Iroh on the back deck early the following morning. He’d had better luck with the fireforms in that he hadn’t passed out, but Iroh thought it might be quite a while before he was back at full power. Firebending wasn’t creating fire so much as it was channeling it, but you still needed strength to do it. Just like physical combat, bending was difficult to do while tired, and how quickly you got tired was in direct proportion to how much energy you were trying to channel. For example, Iroh could use his bending to keep himself physically warm all day long if it was cold outside, but he tapped out after about seven minutes of lightning bending. Being injured like he was cut that time down dramatically. He’d have to be careful today. If they wound up in a situation where bending was needed, Iroh didn’t know how much he’d be able to help. 

Accordingly, first thing that morning he’d gone below decks to the ship’s armory. After some deliberation he’d chosen a dao about three feet long, figuring the thin, slightly curved blade would give him the best reach without adding weight. It was one of the nicer stock weapons, and had a beautiful red and gold handle that Iroh thought, if nothing else, matched his scarlet uniform nicely. If he was going to be Korra’s window dressing, he may as well look the part.

After the fireforms, Iroh had tried practicing with the sword. He thought that it was just as likely to tire him out as firebending, but it felt good to give himself options. After all, he knew better than most the kind of damage a sharp blade could do. Iroh had never been all that good with a sword, having relied on his bending most of his life, but as with every other basic weapon he’d had the best masters growing up and had been trained in the fundamentals. It had probably been seven or eight years since he’d picked one up though, and once he started there was no doubt that he was woefully out of practice. Still, it was better than nothing, even if all he wound up doing was hitting someone over the head with it.

Iroh spun with a slash and saw Ano walking towards him. Unlike him she was fully dressed, her red uniform pressed and spotless. There had been a time not that long ago when Iroh himself wouldn’t have been caught dead outside his quarters without his uniform, much less barefoot in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and couldn’t remember when exactly he’d changed his mind. Perhaps there was something about almost dying that made one care a little less about standing on ceremony. He squatted and slid the sword into the hard wooden scabbard at his feet, then stood.

Ano gave him a crisp salute, then her eyes flicked to his chest. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Iroh looked down and realized he’d thrown on the ridiculous “UNITED FORCES: I LIKE BIG BOATS” shirt he’d been wearing yesterday morning. He thought it a tad vulgar himself, but liked that it made Asami crack up every time she saw it. Apparently she wasn’t the only one.

“Sir,” Ano said, the barest hint of amusement in her voice. “President Raiko on the radio for you. Not his office, him. He doesn’t sound pleased.”

“No,” Iroh said. He bent and picked up the sword. “I imagine not.”

***

“Iroh.”

“What the fuck is going on out there?”

“Good morning to you, too, Mr. President.”

“I mean it, General!” Raiko’s voice boomed out of the speaker. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two days! I talked to Ano, Ano of all people, who comms said is in charge of the fleet? I asked where Commander Cuzon was and she said that she didn’t know.” Iroh glanced aside at Ano and felt one corner of his mouth tick up in a half smile. He’d always thought of her as a bit of a stick in the mud, but the more he worked with her, the more he found he liked it. The older woman gave it to you straight, whether you were a green private or the president himself. He found he could respect that. It was a lot more than most. Ano, however, remained impassive.

Raiko was still yelling. “Then I asked for you, and first I heard you were in the infirmary under heavy sedation. Then you were asleep. Then, I was told that you were on a date and had asked not to be disturbed. _A goddamned date, Iroh?_ What is there to even date out there, tumbleweeds? I am your commander in chief!”

“All of those things are correct. Sir.” It didn't escape his notice that Raiko had not asked after his health.

“I’m not fucking around, Iroh! When I radio you, you answer me, I don’t care if you’re dying or taking a shit or fucking a tumbleweed, am I clear?”

He saw Ano press her mouth into a thin line. Iroh rolled his eyes at the speaker, and her lips disappeared entirely. While she might find his shirt funny, apparently her sense of humor didn’t extend to either Raiko’s profanity or Iroh’s contempt.

“Crystal, sir,” Iroh said. 

“Good. What about the invasion? What happened? And where’s Cuzon? Ano isn’t talking, she said it wasn’t her authority and that I’d have to talk to you. So here I am. I’m talking. And you’d better start.”

“There’s been a change of plans, Mr. President. I’ve called in the Avatar.”

“YOU’VE WHAT?”

“I’ve called in the Avatar,” Iroh said calmly. “Or, rather, I suppose she was called in for other reasons and I’m simply making the most of it. Avatar Korra is going to meet with the committee managing the rebellion in SWE with the hopes of bringing them to the table with the Earth Queen to negotiate a peaceful end to the conflict. I’m going with her as backup. We leave in…” Iroh glanced at his watch, which he’d switched to his right wrist, the slender bronze hands pointing to 1 and 1. “In two hours. Commander Cuzon is otherwise occupied, so LCDR Ano will remain in charge of the fleet in my absence.”

“I order you to stop immediately!” Raiko shouted. Iroh could picture him on the radio in his office, eyes bulging behind his round glasses, face red with rage above his fluffy mustache. “I expressly told Korra not to get involved. The Avatar does not command the military of the United Republic! I told Commander Cuzon to… where the _fuck_ is Cuzon? And _you,_ Iroh, I told you to plan and execute an invasion of SWE in support of our allies in the Earth Kingdom!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. President. I’m not going to do that.” 

“That’s insubordination, General. Mutiny, even. I’m warning you, if you take one more action without my say-so, you’ll be court-martialed.”

Iroh sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So what else is new?” he said, and flipped off the reciever. 

LCDR Ano was staring at him, a shocked expression on her pale face. “General Iroh, President Raiko isn’t wrong,” she said. “If he gave you a direct order to stand down, and you take any kind of force off this ship in intentional, direct disobedience of that order, it’s mutiny.”

“I know. And I don’t care.”

“But General, that’s punishable by death!”

Iroh looked down at his left arm. He’d had it re-bandaged this morning, and could just see the white tape on his wrist poking out from beneath his sleeve. “I know that, too.” Then he looked up at Ano and grinned. “But there’s nothing like death to make you want to live a little, eh? Come on. I haven’t eaten yet, have you? We need to talk.”

Iroh heaved himself out of the chair behind the radio terminal, grabbed the red and gold sword in its scabbard, then strode off in the direction of the officers’ wardroom, a baffled LCDR Ano following in his wake.


	76. IROH

“Here, try this.” Iroh set a teacup down in front of Ano. They weren’t alone in the wardroom, but he was confident that they were sitting far enough down the table that their conversation would be private. He didn’t see any members of Team Avatar, though, including Asami. They must all be getting ready to leave.

Ano picked up the cup, sniffed at it, then took a sip. “Ahh.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, smiling, probably the first real smile he’d seen on her. She blew on the cup slightly, then took another delicate sip. “Tastes of home, General. I see you have some of Firelord Zuko’s palate for teas.”

“I could hardly have avoided it.” Iroh took a sip of his own tea. He’d sprung for the gyokuro this morning, the only truly expensive stuff he’d brought, partly because he wanted to butter Ano up a bit, and partly because he still wasn’t sure he’d survive the day. Iroh breathed in the slightly sweet, earthy aroma, savoring it. What use was fancy tea to the dead?

“You said that you wanted to speak with me?” Ano eyed him suspiciously over the rim of her cup. Iroh felt like the past three days had built, if not genuine regard, at least a kind of mutual respect that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t know if she’d ever forgive him for being an upstart, but perhaps she could finally believe that he had something to offer. Iroh, for his part, was starting to understand that there was something to be said for someone who stayed the course through the storm.

“Yes,” he said. “Or rather, I’m going to give you some orders, and I want to look you in the eyes when I do it. I’m potentially putting you in a difficult situation.”

Ano narrowed her golden eyes. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I believe that you are.”

“Lieutenant Commander, I’m continuing to leave you in charge of the fleet in my absence. If you lose contact with me, which is likely, that means that you call the shots. But I have two parting instructions.” 

Ano said nothing. She took another quiet sip of tea, waiting.

“First, I am ordering you not to come after us. I intend to avoid conflict at all costs, but as we’ve seen, that might not be possible. There are elements in SWE, or individuals rather, who would use us as bait in order to have another run at the Forces. But they have the field advantage, and we’ve lost too many men. I’m not having anyone else die for me. Is that clear?”

She nodded. “Clear, sir.”

Iroh took a deep breath. This was the tricky one. “Second, I’m ordering you not to use the communications rooms on any of the ships until I tell you otherwise, or until you return to Republic City, which you will begin to do in three days’ time. With or without me.”

Ano put down her tea with a bang. A few heads turned further up the table, but they quickly turned away, understanding the signal to mind their own business. “You can’t do that, General.” Her voice was low. She clearly wanted to be overheard as little as he did.

“Actually, I can,” Iroh said calmly. “You report to Commander Cuzon. And, in his absence, you report to me. Who I report to, that’s my business. As long as I’m not asking you to do anything dangerous, illegal, or which violates any international conventions, it’s within my powers. I can’t order you not to listen to President Raiko if he contradicts my orders, but I  _ can _ order you not to use the only means you have of contacting him. It’s a technicality, and a shitty one, but it’s valid.”

Ano frowned at him, clearly running through her own knowledge of the United Forces codes, trying to find a loophole. She couldn’t. He saw her shoulders relax. “Sir.”

“I want you to know my reasons.”

“That isn’t necessary, General. Orders are orders.” 

But Iroh shook his head. It was important that she understood. He knew that she would do it regardless, but he didn’t like the idea of forcing anyone to follow him blindly. “I want you to know them anyway,” he said. “As you heard, what I’m about to do, what Avatar Korra is about to do, is expressly against Raiko’s instructions. It’s going to cost me my job, and perhaps quite a bit more than that, but it’s just as much the right thing to do as it was five days ago. We came here to end the rebellion, Ano. That’s what I’m going to do. But you, you’re only following orders. My orders. And if you never hear any orders to the contrary, you’ve done nothing wrong. What’s more, I wouldn’t put it past the president to order some things that could get a lot of people killed. These battleships have cannons, Lieutenant Commander. The range is 15 miles. You have no way of seeing 15 miles, or of knowing with confidence who or what is there given our surveillance. But if President Raiko gave you a direct order to fire on SWE with everything you had, that would be on the table. I’m not going to allow this to escalate into an all-out war, nor am I going to allow the United Forces to blindly fire on civilians. That’s well worth my career, or my life. But I won’t ask it to be worth yours.”

Iroh stopped at that, trying to gauge her reaction. LCDR Ano was looking at him with an expression that, for whatever reason, reminded him of the way that H-mom had looked at him the time she’d found out he’d repeatedly bribed his dancing master into letting him use the time to watch army drills from the top of a tree instead: one part anger, one part exasperation, and one part, perhaps despite herself, impressed. Honora had been furious, and had docked his allowance for the next year, but she’d also let him drop dance, saying that if he didn’t know how to when he was older it was on his head. Iroh imagined Ano thinking similar: I disagree, but I know that you won’t listen to me, so now it’s your problem.

“General. May I ask you a question?” she said finally. Iroh nodded. He’d been anticipating a challenge, after all. “Where is Commander Cuzon and the three lieutenants who went missing?”

That hadn’t been the question Iroh was expecting. He thought for a moment. “I don’t know, exactly,” he said carefully. He knew he wasn’t a good liar, so he tried to stick to facts that were, technically, the truth. “But today, I intend to find out.”

***

Dressed, packed, and with only 30 minutes before their scheduled departure, Iroh went back to the communications room. This time, he made sure that he was alone. 

It took him 15 minutes to reach her, bouncing between various subordinates requiring increasing levels of both identification and urgency; so long that he was beginning to get nervous. Iroh knew all the protocol by heart, of course, but it was still early there and his mother kept a busy schedule. 

“Firelord Izumi.” Her voice crackled through the speaker. The Fire Nation wasn’t exactly close. “This had better be good.”

“Hello.”

“Iroh!” Iroh had no idea how she could tell his voice like that, just from one word, but she could. He’d only identified himself as United Forces fleet command, just in case. “This is unexpected. Is everything all right?”

“I think so. Or I think it can be. But I’d like to ask a favor. A big one.”

A pause. “What is it, honey?”

“Do you trust me?”


	77. ASAMI

“Nobody weighs that much, Asami, even if they covered their whole body in metal. Why not just nip a bit off the end and stick it in your pocket?” Mako frowned down at the enormous copper-wrapped iron pipe that she and Varrick had welded together on the flight over. Asami herself sat cross legged on the floor of the airship, a notebook in her lap. She’d been intending to cut the massive electromagnet down to a portable size, but was having trouble deciding on the right ratios. She’d winched it back into the gondola using the same mechanism that closed the loading doors, but unlike when she’d flown low over the camp where Iroh was held, they’d be landing this time. It wouldn’t do much of anything stuck underneath the airship, and might even damage some of the controls. 

“It’s not about how much they weigh,” Asami said. She scratched out another figure, then scribbled out the entire thing and started over. As grateful as she was for it, no amount of Iroh’s caffeinated tea could make it not 9am, and she still felt half asleep. “It’s about how much force they’re exerting. I need to be able to carry it, but if it’s not strong enough to push or pull a moving body there’s no point.”

Mako’s frown deepened. He studied the piping. “I don’t get it.”

Asami thought for a moment. She knew she wasn’t a great teacher. She didn’t know how to teach things that she just instinctively got. It was just a force ratio, right? Maybe an example would help. She looked around and saw Bolin walking towards them from where he’d been standing by the window. “It’s like… say Bolin here weighs 200lbs.”

“I do not!” said Bolin. He stopped next to Mako and thrust out his chin in challenge. “I’ve dropped 7lbs since I started running with Iroh, I’ll have you know.” He glanced quickly back at where Opal was still peering out the glass, Pabu the fire ferret draped around her shoulders like a stole. Asami thought there was something surprisingly intimate about her wearing Bolin’s pet like that, and for a moment she wondered exactly where he’d been sleeping. They’d all been issued cabins, but she hadn’t explicitly checked in on anyone there. Not that Asami herself was in much of a position to judge. She had tumbled into bed with Mako almost as soon as they’d started dating, partly high on the thrill and on being so obviously wanted, and partly sure that’s what a pro-bender expected of her. She’d waited longer with Iroh, mostly at his insistence, but not much. Whatever Bolin and Opal were doing after a month of steady dating in Republic City was their business. 

Bolin slapped his stomach. “Not an extra ounce on me now,” he said, perhaps a little more loudly than necessary. Opal didn’t look up. 

“ _For example,_ say Bolin weighs a nice round number like 200lbs,” Asami said, smiling. “When he’s standing, he’s putting 200 lbs of pressure on his foot. When he walks, he’s also using energy to move, so the force on his foot is way more than that. When he starts to run, he’s actually slamming his foot down, so the force is closer to six times his body weight, or 1200lbs. Iroh looked it up once, something about avoiding running injuries.” 

Iroh looked over at the sound of his name from where he was seated on the opposite side of the gondola. He’d been deep in conversation with Korra, who held the papers he’d prepared for her in one hand. He cupped one hand to his mouth. “What?”

“Magnets!” she yelled. 

“Whatever Asami says is right!” he called back, flashing her a smile, then turned back to the Avatar. 

Asami felt the corners of her mouth turn up. It was good to see him looking more like himself. “Anyway, the same is true for someone running away from a magnet. If they weigh 200lbs, but are moving towards or away from you, they’ll be doing so with a lot more than 200lbs of force, probably in a way that resembles running. And then there’s the distance, too. There’s a lot of math.” She frowned down at her notebook again.

“She’s not wrong,” said Varrick. He was sitting in one of the metal chairs along the wall of the gondola, clearly pretending to read a magazine while he kept a wary eye on Iroh across the room. “Though it’s actually seven times. I designed magnet shoes once so I could hang upside down without my thinking bar, but no one thought to tell me that my ceilings weren’t metal.”

Mako seemed to ignore him. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just, I dunno, trip them?”

Asami wasn’t so sure he was wrong. Sometimes she worried that she over-engineered her solutions a bit. But she’d seen how Commander Cuzon fought in the alley, or most of the Republic City Police for that matter, and wanted something that might counter metal projectiles. And the awful bruising on Iroh… she wasn’t going to let that happen again, no way.

“Maybe,” she said. “But a metalbender on the ground can still fling knives at you.”

“Asami,” said Bolin, “you know some pretty weird things.” He turned his head. “You too, Varrick.”

“Except it isn’t going to work,” Varrick said, carefully turning a page.

Asami looked up. “Why not?”

His cool blue eyes met hers, and he smirked. The bastard actually smirked. “A little thing called the Law of Magnetism. And I’m not talking about physics! It’s one of the 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership. It says so, right here.” Varrick folded back one half of his magazine and pointed to a long list that, from this distance, she couldn’t read. He turned it back, oblivious, and read: “Law Nine: Who You Are is Who You Attract.” 

“I don’t get it,” Asami said. “What does some stupid business article have to do with an actual magnet?”

“Well, for one, who are you?" Varrick said. He folded the magazine in his lap. "You’re a young woman who is intending to walk off this airship wearing one rather large metal glove. Two, who do you attract? Unless I’m very much mistaken, your boyfriend over there now has three feet of folded steel strapped to his waist. You switch on a super powerful magnet, you’ll wind up doing little more than pulling your own hand and General Iroh’s butt into very close proximity. Which, if that’s what you wanted, I can completely appreciate, but I honestly think he’d just let you.”

“Varrick, I don’t think that’s what that slogan means,” Bolin said. But Asami only frowned. Varrick had a maddening way of saying things that made absolutely no sense, and yet also being completely right. If she was going to use the electromagnet, even a small one, to counter any metalbenders, then none of them could have metal on themselves going in. _Damn._ She rubbed at her temple, thinking. If they had to choose between the magnet and their other weapons, she honestly didn’t know what to do. 

Asami looked over at the inventor, who had thrown another wary glance at Iroh, as if speaking his name might attract his attention again. Then she smiled.

“Varrick, you’re right. And I know that General Iroh will appreciate the way you’ve just volunteered.”

***

Asami was setting the last of the completed canisters down next to the new shoulder-mounted electromagnet when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn’t know how close they were to where they were going, but had run out of things to prepare and was instead piling everything she wanted to take with them in one place. 

“So, what have we got here?” Iroh’s voice. She nestled the last two canisters into their cardboard container, then stood up to face him. Close up, she could see that he was already tired. She wished she could get him to lie down for a bit, but knew it was a losing battle. But he seemed alert enough, and obviously curious as to what she’d been up to while he’d been planning with Korra. 

“Equalizers,” she said. “They have metalbenders, we don’t, so I focused on things to try to take them out of the equation.” She nodded to her pile.

“Like the magnet,” he said.

“Like the magnet.”

“And those are... ?” Iroh nodded the canisters she’d just packed, which were really just repurposed glass soda bottles, then raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

Asami grinned up at him. “You always want to know, Iroh. Don’t even pretend. Electric bombs.”

Iroh took an involuntary step back. “Electric… bombs? Asami, should I be worried that we have twelve home-made bombs on an airship a thousand feet in the air?”

“Of course not,” she said. “They’re not explosive. They’ll only electrocute you. Just don’t break the bottles. I didn’t pull any punches.”

“Electrocute you. I see.” One side of Iroh's mouth ticked up in a half smile. He nodded at her Equalist glove, which she’d piled next to the carrier she’d placed the bombs in. “Going back to your roots, then?”

“It’s something we have that they don’t. And it’s a definite weakness if you’re packing metal, especially the big plates like I saw Commander Cuzon try to choke you with.”

“Fair enough. What’s in them?

“It’s just PVA from the airship’s lining, pickle juice, and water with an electric smacker disc. I haven’t actually been able to test one, but fingers crossed it’ll work.” At the mention of the electric smacker she saw Iroh slump a little. She knew he’d lost her prototype when his uniform jacket got left behind in the stone pyramid and, despite her reassurances, felt badly about it. She kept going, trying not to dwell on it. “You have to throw it hard though. It’s not enough to crack the glass, you have to shatter it and hit the compression disc. Everything the liquid touches should get a wallop.” 

Iroh gave her a skeptical look. “Pickle juice? If you say so.”

“Says the man bringing an honest-to-spirits _sword_ to an earthbender rumble?” she chided. “Who are you, Councilman Sokka in the 100-years war?”

He laughed. “I like the sword! Besides, we already have two firebenders. I was feeling redundant.”

“Well, I’m going to load you up with a few electric bombs just in case.”

Iroh stared at her, a bemused expression on his face. His eyes flicked to her pile again. “There really isn’t anyone else quite like you, is there?” he said. Then he leaned down and kissed her quickly on the forehead before meeting her eyes. One finger lightly brushed her cheek. “Asami Sato, you are the most terrifying person I know.” 

Asami felt herself blush. Coming from the General of the United Forces, that meant quite a lot.


	78. IROH

“Got something, sir!” Zhu Li called from the front of the airship. She was staring out the front window wearing one of the oddest devices that Iroh had ever seen. It was a head cage, of sorts, but made mostly of flexible straps, with two huge tubes over the eyes ending in deep green lenses. To Iroh it looked like someone had crossed a pair of army field glasses with some kind of giant, head-eating spiderfly. But Varrick and Zhu Li both swore that the contraption, which Varrick called “heat peepers,” could see warm objects against cooler ones at a staggering range. Having no guarantee that they’d be able to find Jashan and her group from the air by vision alone, and with Asami registering no objection, Iroh had had no choice but to believe that the heat peepers were their best chance at spotting human activity in the vast deserts below.

Iroh took a step forward, but the young woman turned and looked at Varrick instead. Iroh stopped, a little chagrined. He was used to “sir” referring to him, and had forgotten the odd relationship between the inventor and his assistant. He’d have to remember that this was the Avatar’s mission now, not his, and that no one on the team reported to him, let alone called him “sir.” Although Iroh had spent more than a year in her company, this was also his first time working with Korra since she’d dragged him out of Yue Bay to fight the Equalists, and even then they’d quickly split up. There was no “I” in Team Avatar, and as far as he knew no Iroh, either. To be honest, as accepting as Korra, Mako, Bolin, and of course Asami had been of him, he didn’t quite know what his status was on the team. There was, after all, still an “I” in outsider. But then again, wasn’t being an outsider also what he was counting on today?

Varrick jumped up, long blue coat flapping, and hurried to where Zhu Li stood at the window. “Down there, sir,” Zhu Li pointed. “In those buildings.” Varrick took the heat peepers from her and looked down as Iroh and the other members of the team walked over.

“What have you got?” Korra asked. 

“A whole lotta crazy,” Varrick said. “Either that, or a couple of huts full of hog monkeys.”

“May I?” Iroh reached for the heat peepers. Varrick flinched a little, then handed them over. Iroh suppressed a smile. Asami said that Varrick was afraid of him. While he was certainly very angry with the man, Iroh found the fact that he was more scared of him than Asami a little funny. But he also got the impression that Varrick might underestimate women in general. Poor man, that one was going to bite him one day, if it hadn’t already. 

Iroh turned the heat peepers over in his hands, then tried to put them on. But they wouldn’t go over his head. He took them off again, puzzled, looking for a way to adjust the many straps that supposedly held it on.

“Other way,” he heard Asami say quietly from behind him. He looked down and saw he’d been trying to put the odd goggles on upside-down. _Not remotely embarrassing, Iroh._ He felt his cheeks burn as he reversed the straps, then slipped the gadget on over his head. 

It was one of the stranger experiences Iroh had had, which, considering he’d once gotten lost in the spirit world, he thought was saying something. The world of normal colors was immediately replaced with a bright rainbow of large blobs and blocks. He took an involuntary step back, surprised. Iroh didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. He glanced to the side and saw that his companions had been replaced with a prismatic array of greens and yellows and reds. Mako’s exposed face and hands, he noticed, were almost white, compared to the mottled red and orange of everyone else. _Firebender?_ he thought, and looked down at his own hands. White as well. Fascinating. His mind started whirring with the possibilities.

Iroh shook his head. _Focus._ Now wasn’t the time. Instead, he stepped up to what he thought was the window, a large slanted square that was now a deep blue. He looked out and scanned the ground. It was all bright pink, with spots of yellow and orange that might have been vegetation or some other topography. Yet Iroh could also see, quite distinctly, a series of purple squares and circles that were obviously manmade structures. Those would be buildings, and possibly tents, which of course would be a different temperature than solid ground. They were arrayed in a kind of three-quarters circle around a trapezoidal patch that was so dark it was almost black. Iroh might not have known what he was looking at if he hadn’t been to a place like Fa Re, but he’d seen this setup before. It was the opening to a mine, likely set into a low hillside. And moving between the entrance to the mine and the purple structures were the bright orange and red outlines of tiny people.

“That’s them,” Iroh said, taking off the heat peepers. He shook his head a little, letting his vision adjust.

“How do you know?” Mako asked.

“They’re moving in straight lines, no milling about.” Iroh handed the device to Zhu Li, then reached up and smoothed down his hair, which seemed to stick up at the barest excuse. “Normal people don’t do that. Looks military. And not a lot of people build round buildings, either, so I’m guessing those are portable tents set up between pre-existing structures to accommodate an influx of extra people. Means the setup is either new, temporary, or both.”

“Good enough for me, Fireball,” Korra said. “And nice work, Zhu Li.” Iroh sighed inwardly. Korra really was going to call him that forever, wasn’t she? Although he supposed, considering “Bolin the Colon,” it could have been a lot worse.

Korra put her hands on her hips, then eyed the group. “Let’s go down and say hello.”

***

The airship bumped down about a half mile from the structures that Zhu Li had found from the air. The idea was to be close enough that they could easily walk (or run), but far enough away that the airship wouldn’t necessarily get quickly dismantled by a bunch of metalbenders. Asami was once again in the pilot’s chair, her green flying glasses glinting in the mid-day sun. It was the first time Iroh had seen her in her tactical suit in a long time, a dark gray and maroon Future Industries design that he knew had certain properties like thermal regulation and resistance to piercing. It wasn’t armor, exactly, but he was glad to see it on her all the same. He didn’t know what they were walking into, so every advantage could matter. And if the outfit also clung to Asami’s long, sleek form in all kinds of interesting ways, Iroh wasn’t about to complain.

Once tied down they gathered just outside the airship, Korra at the center. Iroh did a quick scan of the terrain out of habit. The land here was hillier than near the coast. Soft golden humps rose out of the packed yellow hardpan, creating the illusion of endless waves of dirt and dust stretching off to the horizon. Clumps of odd, stunted trees clustered on the leeward sides of the little hills, their shadows nearly invisible in the blinding sun. The cracked dirt shimmered in the heat, and Iroh resisted the urge to pull at his collar. He’d been outside less than three minutes and he was already sweating. He’d have to have a talk with whoever designed the uniforms when he got back to see if there was some lightweight alternative.

“Okay,” Korra said. She flicked a glance at Iroh, but he kept his face neutral. This was the Avatar’s show now. “We’ll see how this goes. Thanks to General Iroh”—she thrust her chin in his direction—“I think we’re as prepared as we can be, but there’s a lot we don’t know. So, if things go haywire, get back to the airship as fast as you can. Try to keep it defensive. We’re not here to fight. As we’ve seen with the fleet, sometimes fighting makes things worse. But based on how they rolled out the welcome wagon for the United Forces, expect surprises. Expect traps. And if things do go bad, don’t let yourself get grabbed. If you do, raise hell so someone can find you fast. I’m not leaving anyone behind.” Iroh knew that was easier said than done, but he kept quiet. Hopefully that was a lesson Korra wouldn’t have to learn today.

Instead, he turned to Varrick and held out his hand. Varrick looked down at it, then grasped it warily. “Good luck,” Iroh said. “And thank you.” The inventor’s blue eyes narrowed, as if expecting he would end his thanks by using him as a human torch. 

“You’re welcome,” Varrick said slowly. He adjusted his shoulder strap, then added, “General.” Iroh released his hand, and Varrick started off across the packed hardpan, Zhu Li alongside him.

“That’s the quietest I’ve ever seen that guy,” Bolin said. He looked at the rest of the group. “Did anyone slip him something? I like Varrick, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Korra snorted. “Hadn’t thought of it. I’ll keep that in mind though. Everyone ready?” No one answered, so Korra set a brisk pace towards the settlement. 

Asami took the lead with Korra, talking quietly, a dark gray canvas bag slung over one shoulder. Bolin and Opal followed in a line, and Iroh found himself falling in beside Mako at the rear. 

Mako glanced aside at him, then down. “Sword?” he said, smiling a little. It suddenly struck Iroh that Mako didn’t smile very much. 

“I honestly don’t know what I can do today,” he replied. “Gives me options.” Iroh shrugged slightly. “Maybe I can throw it at someone.”

Mako’s brows knitted together in a dark line. “You’re saying you can’t firebend?”

“I’m saying that I’d be suicidal to be counting on it, and I’ve had more than enough of suicide this week.”

Mako grimaced. He clearly didn't find Iroh's jest funny. He shook his head. “I can’t imagine not being able to bend.”

Iroh looked at him sharply. “You mean you’ve never tapped out?”

Mako shook his head again. “No. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been tired before, but I’ve never gotten to the point where I had nothing left.”

Iroh frowned. That was worrying. Although he’d never have admitted it to anyone, he’d always considered himself the more powerful firebender of the two of them. And not necessarily by a small margin, either. Either he’d significantly underestimated Mako, significantly overestimated himself, or Mako had never been put out of commission to the extent that Iroh had. Come to think of it, had Mako ever been seriously injured? Iroh knew he hadn’t had the easiest upbringing, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he, Iroh, who’d been beaten to within an inch of his life more than once just within the last two years, was simply more of an idiot.

“I’m not completely exhausted,” Iroh said. He certainly hoped that was true. His exercises that morning had only been encouraging in the fact that they hadn’t made him faint, but he already felt himself flagging just from the walk in the heat. He had no idea how Mako was still wearing a scarf. “After all, I’m still walking around. But I just don’t know.”

Mako looked sideways at him, as if thinking. Finally he said, “You know you don’t have to do this by yourself, I, right? I don’t even know what ‘this’ is, exactly, but I see it in your face. Whatever you’re planning. We’re a team. I’m not going to ask, but if you need anything, backup, cover, you get dizzy like yesterday, whatever, I got you. And don’t be afraid to get out. No one needs to prove they’re a hero today, least of all you.”

_You’ll always have a lot more in common with Wu than you will with anyone from SWE. Or me._

“Of course, Mako,” Iroh said. He’d only told Korra about his backup plan, hoping that he could rely on her duty as the Avatar to do the right thing if it didn’t work. It had taken some convincing, but reluctantly she’d agreed. So instead he scanned the desert, trying to make it look perfectly normal that he wasn’t meeting Mako’s eyes. “A team.”


	79. ASAMI

Korra had said to check for traps, so check for traps is what Asami did. She scanned the ground and surrounding hills as they walked, the idea being that if there was any kind of mecha she’d not only likely spot it before Korra did, but, more importantly, know enough about what she was looking at to get them out of the way. Not that that had kept her, Bolin, and Iroh from walking into an invisible electric fence that one time, but Asami hoped she’d learned her lesson from that. If anything looked suspicious, the first thing she’d do was yell “freeze!”

As of yet though, there was nothing to be seen but dirt, sand, a few spiny trees, and the occasional lizard scorpion clacking and scuttling its way into the brush. That wasn’t too surprising though. Asami had deliberately landed to the northwest of the area where Iroh thought the SWE rebels had moved to, which was as close to the opposite direction of the fleet as she could get without actually flying over them. She’d also tried to keep the airship more or less directly in the sun so that it would be difficult to see them, but all the same it would be hard to miss a 200ft gray blob floating in a cloudless sky at noon. She’d assumed they’d been seen. But hopefully at least coming from this direction hadn’t been anticipated, and defenses would be minimal.

Asami checked herself. Seriously, defenses? Rebels? Checking for traps? A year at Republic City Central Command and she sounded just like Iroh. He’d once asked her why she never joined the United Forces, and she’d answered with some quip about arrogant firebenders, but the truth was she’d never considered it. And not in a dismissive way, either. A path like that for someone like her had simply never been discussed. It had always been perfectly clear what she would do: get an education, perhaps help her father at his company a little, then meet someone—or have someone met for her—at one of any number of events involving the “right” kind of people, and marry them. After that she could probably spend her idle time more or less how she wanted, tinkering with her inventions or racing or lounging on the beach, but someone like her didn’t need a career. Let alone a career _fighting._ Yet she found that she loved it. Not the actual fighting part, maybe. But the strategy, the tactics, the camaraderie with battle-hardened warriors like Korra and Iroh or even someone like LCDR Ano, the feeling like she was solving problems and making a difference. And what’s more, Asami knew she was good at it. If she ever had a family of her own, she vowed to be a lot more open minded than her father had been.

She threw an involuntary glance back at Iroh. He was deep in conversation with Mako, too far away for her to hear. They’d intentionally spread out in pairs in case of surprises. But despite the distance, she could tell he was already fatigued. Something in the way he was walking, perhaps, a certain droop to his shoulders. Asami had recognized that she’d had about as much chance of catching the spirit of the moon as she would have had convincing him to stay behind, but she wondered if she should have pushed anyway. They’d only just set out, after all. At least he was sticking close to Mako. Sometimes it was still a little weird, her ex and her boyfriend being friends, but she never doubted that they’d have each others’ backs.

“So how am I doing?” Korra’s voice brought her back to attention. 

“How are you doing in what?” Asami asked.

“At generalling. I think General Avatar sounds pretty good.” Her friend’s expression was cocky, but Asami thought she saw a hint of something else in her big blue eyes. A slight nervousness, perhaps. The two tails framing Korra’s face waved slightly in the warm, steady wind.

“I think you’re great,” Asami said encouragingly. “We have a good plan and no one is dead yet, which so far puts you ahead of the entire United Forces.” She sucked in a breath, suddenly realizing how that sounded. “Please don’t ever tell Iroh I said that. He’d take it the wrong way. He’s… pretty hard on himself, especially lately”

Korra shook her head. “Not a word.” 

“But Korra, this isn’t exactly your first fight, or even your first time trying to stop a war. What’s bothering you?”

Korra frowned slightly. “I’m not bothered.”

“Yes you are. What is it? Spill.”

Korra glanced around, as if making sure Bolin and Opal, the closest to them, were out of earshot. But they were walking about 20 feet behind, absorbed in their own conversation. Then Korra’s face changed, for the first time since they’d left Republic City showing a touch of vulnerability. “Well… ok, fine. You’re right. It isn’t my first fight. But that’s just it, Asami. This isn’t supposed to _be_ a fight. My whole job, the purpose of the Avatar, is to restore balance. It’s not to go around the world beating everyone up. I’m good at the beating people up part. I always have been. But diplomacy? Not so much.”

Asami thought she had a point. Korra had, for example, screamed at President Raiko in public on more than one occasion. Not that the bastard hadn’t deserved it, but still. In retrospect, just about the only person worse at playing Republic City politics than Iroh, was Korra. Though it might not always be obvious at first glance, in some ways the two of them were a lot alike. 

Korra bit her lower lip slightly. “So what if it turns out that I can’t do this part of the Avatar job? It’s not like I’ve had a lot of success. I tried to face Amon—fight. I tried to work it out between the Water Tribes—fight. I tried to convince Unalaq not to free Vaatu—fight. I won all the fights, but that’s only because I lost all the negotiations. What if today is no different?”

“Then we’re no worse off than we were yesterday,” Asami said. “And you’re not as bad as you think. You might be a little… forceful, sometimes. But you’re a good person, and you know what’s fair. If other people don’t listen to you, that doesn’t make you a bad Avatar. And what’s more, you have to start somewhere.”

“I suppose,” Korra said. She scuffed one foot, kicking up a small cloud of dust. 

“And look on the bright side,” Asami said. She squeezed her right hand, where her old familiar Equalist glove now sat snug against her fingers. “We win all the fights.”

***

Asami and Korra never found any traps. Instead, what they found was a wall. 

They rounded a narrow path between two hills to find a tall wall made of some kind of pale stone. It had been set between the hills directly in their path, but didn’t extend up over them. If she’d wanted, Asami could have simply climbed up and gone around. The ground was sandier here, and drifts of yellow sand had piled up against the bottoms of the hills. 

Asami stopped about 15 feet from the wall. She didn’t see anything on the ground or the hills that looked disturbed, but with all the sand it was hard to tell. In a flash of annoyance she wished she hadn’t sent the magnet off with Varrick. But if the area had been mined, or there was some other kind of hidden mecha like the ones that had created her father’s wireless electric fence, pulling it towards her with a magnet probably wasn’t a good idea anyway. 

Bolin and Opal caught up to them. “Uh, Korra,” Bolin said. “I don’t want to be a downer, but this doesn’t scream ‘I want to talk’ at me. What do we do?”

“Aren’t you an earthbender? This is a stone wall.”

Opal chimed in. “But we don’t know what’s on the other side. It could be anything. We can’t see through stone.”

Asami looked at Bolin. “Actually, I think maybe Bolin can.” 

Bolin flashed her a grateful smile, then puffed out his chest a little. “Watch this,” he said, and stamped his right foot hard on the ground. He paused a moment, then his green eyes went wide. “Wow! That actually… I mean, okay, yeah, there are two people on the other side of the wall. About”—he lifted his arms into a “Y”, fingers pointing at two areas about ten feet apart—“here, and here, and maybe five feet back from the wall.”

Korra stared at him. “Where did you learn _that,_ Bolin? My earthbending masters didn’t teach me that one.”

Bolin smiled smugly. “I’ve got my sources. I’m happy to teach you sometime. I think with enough practice you can get it.” Korra narrowed her eyes at him, and he had the good sense to stop talking.

“What have we got?” Asami heard Iroh ask from behind her. She turned to see him walking up alongside Mako. She noticed that he was examining, not the wall, but the surrounding hillsides. Of course he’d think of that. He and Asami had, after all, set up a similar choke point once themselves as a way to funnel their enemies into a tightly packed group. But apparently he didn’t see anything to alarm him.

“A clown handing out ice cream cones,” Korra said. She smirked at Iroh. “I thought you were some kind of fancy general. What does it look like we’ve got?”

Iroh chuckled. “All right, better question. What would you like to do about it? I hope you weren’t waiting for Mako and I to try to burn down a stone wall for you.” He raised one eyebrow, “I thought you were some kind of fancy Avatar? Last I heard, that comes with earthbending.”

Korra laughed. “Just waiting for you mere firebenders to join the party.” She turned back to Bolin. “I think you and I take down the wall. Everyone else get ready. We try talk first; or, rather, according to Iroh I’m the only one who should do the talking. But if they don’t want to talk, we get them to let us through. Go it?”

“Maybe we should take a break first,” Asami said. Although he’d been laughing with Korra, up close Asami thought Iroh looked ready to drop. His skin had a pale, waxy look and his face was bathed in sweat. His dark hair hung limp over his forehead, and he hadn’t even bothered to push it out of the way, like maybe his arms felt too heavy to manage it. 

“No,” Iroh said firmly. He stood up straighter, obviously clued in to the fact that she was doing it for his benefit. Who else would need a rest after a half mile walk? “It’s up to Korra, of course, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they know we’re here. If we stop now, we lose any advantage we had coming from the north.” 

“Iroh’s right,” Korra said as Asami silently cursed his stubbornness. “We need to keep moving. Bolin, on my three. One… two… three!”

Korra and Bolin both leaned forwards, arms extended, their forms in perfect sync from having worked so long together as a team. Then they stepped back, making a sweeping, pulling motion as they did so. Unlike firebending, earthbending motions were fairly straightforward. Asami thought the movements mostly resembled what you were trying to do—push, pull, up, down. Not that that made it easy. 

The stone wall came down with a crash, simultaneously breaking apart and sinking back into the ground in a whirling cloud of dirt and sand. 

“Parley!” Korra shouted, before the dust even settled. What might have been a flurry of movement on the other side of the wall abruptly ceased.

“What?” Asami muttered under her breath.

“That’s what Iroh said to say,” Korra whispered back. “Said he got the idea reading some book about pirates from this area. Apparently, that's pirate for ‘I want to talk to you.’” 

_“Pirates?!”_ Asami hissed. _“Are you two serious?_ Spirits, sometimes Iroh is such a fucking _dork,_ and you—"

“You invoke parley,” called a woman’s voice. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

 _Wait. That worked?_ Asami bit her tongue, silently vowing to buy Iroh whatever weird books he wanted when they got home.

Korra pumped her fist in triumph, then straightened as the dust settled. Two people stood on the other side of the wall. The first, the one who had spoken, was a young woman with long, dark golden hair and light green eyes who looked vaguely familiar. The other was a big, blocky man in his later years with deep tan skin that Asami didn’t recognize. Both were dressed in nearly identical loose-fitting garments the same rich gold as the desert sands, with thick brown scarves around their necks. They carried no visible weapons, and based on their placement behind the wall Asami thought that it was a good guess they were both earthbenders.

“I am Korra, the Avatar, and I am Speaker for this group,” Korra said clearly. She turned to Asami, who, like all of them, had been prepared to introduce herself likewise. But Asami saw the eyes of the blonde guard flick to Iroh, then widen in shock. If she recognized Iroh, and looked somewhat familiar to Asami as well, it was a good bet that this woman was one of Cuzon’s missing United Forces lieutenants. 

“I am Asami Sato, president of Future Industries, civilian liaison to Republic City Central Command in the United Republic of Nations in partnership with the United Forces,” Asami said, trying to keep her voice calm. After all, that would mean that this woman was one of the ones who had turned on Iroh on the cliffs, intending to kill him. She gritted her teeth, shoving down any thoughts of hurling electric bombs, then turned to Bolin. 

“Uh…. I’m Bolin,” said Bolin. “Um… star of Nuktuk: Hero of the South?” He looked helplessly at Asami, but she only shrugged. It would have to do. Opal quickly stepped up and introduced herself, as if trying to save Bolin from floundering, then Mako. 

“And I am Iroh, General of the United Forces,” said Iroh. At that, the face of the other guard, the older man, turned from mild hostility to obvious surprise. 

The woman gave Iroh a long, searching look, then turned back to Korra. “I am Tschuna, and I am Speaker for this group.” 

“And I am Hazon, citizen of Southwest Earth Kingdom,” said the man.

“What is your purpose here, Avatar Korra?” Tschuna asked. 

“We are here seeking a peaceful end to the conflict, and wish to talk with you at your convenience,” Korra said, rather formally. The phrasing didn’t sound much like Korra; Asami thought Iroh might have coached her on this part. “Though we do not represent the United Forces or the United Republic of Nations, our goal is the same as what they said earlier this week.”

Tschuna narrowed her eyes. “Very well. Follow me.”

“Oh, no problem,” said Korra, in a voice much more like herself. “We can wait until you’re ready.”

Tschuna looked sideways at Hazon, then said, “Now is fine. Please come with us.”

“Really,” Korra said, shifting on to one foot in a mimic of nonchalance. “We just got here. And took down your whole wall and stuff. Take your time.”

The blonde woman’s eyes flicked to Iroh, but he said nothing, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “I must insist,” Tschuna said slowly. “You are already here. Right this way, Avatar Korra and company.” And without waiting for a reply, Tshuna spun on one heel and strode off in the direction of the settlement. Hazon looked Korra up and down, then followed suit. Asami saw Korra throw Iroh a grin as soon as his back was turned, and he nodded at her, smile deepening. So far, it seemed, so good.

As Korra turned to follow the two earthbenders, Iroh’s golden eyes slid to Asami. He suddenly beamed at her, before mouthing something that looked suspiciously like “you like dorks.” Then he put his hands in his pockets and strode off after the Avatar, his ridiculous red sword swinging against his leg.

Asami didn’t have much to say to that. She sighed, adjusted her shoulder bag full of bombs, and followed them into the camp.


	80. IROH

_Right of parley, of all things._ Iroh shook his head, smiling to himself. He hadn’t exactly expected Korra to use it like that, let alone to have it work, but he supposed it was about time they had some luck. He’d also been impressed by how much of the SWE language and customs Korra had retained from their briefing session on the flight over. The lifetime of knowledge that Cuzon had imparted during his two days with Iroh in the Map Room, Iroh had in turn condensed into little more than two hours with Korra. It was a good reminder to him that, though young and often impulsive, Korra was far from stupid, and whether on her own merit for from the benefit of her many past lives her instincts were excellent.

Iroh slowed his pace to fall in beside Mako again, keeping to their walking pairs by unspoken arrangement. As much as he wanted to be near Asami, to stay close and protect her, he was deliberately keeping his distance now. The Triple Threats had already used her to get to him, but though it was common knowledge in Republic City now that they were a couple he thought it likely that most in SWE wouldn’t make the connection, even with Hiroshi Sato’s commission. Besides, if Iroh was still a target, he needed to be as far away from Asami as possible. Even though they were friends, he didn’t think Mako would take a fatal hit for him, nor did he expect it. Asami… Iroh shuddered. He would, after all, not think twice about it himself.

Iroh took a deep breath, trying not to dwell on it. After all, so far, everything was going very well. Instead, he studied their new companions. He’d immediately recognized the young woman, Tschuna she’d said her name was, as the lieutenant who had been manning the communications room the night Asami had been cut off trying to warn him about the counterfeit mecha. Iroh assumed that she was behind that, which in his mind made her as much or more responsible than Cuzon for the hundreds of United Forces deaths that followed. He felt his mouth harden as he looked at her back. That was a hard thing to forgive. But he was going to have to set his personal feelings aside if he had any hope of letting the Avatar make peace.

Lt. Tschuna—or, he supposed, just Tschuna now—had also clearly been surprised to see him, as had the man Hazon once he’d learned Iroh’s name. Which meant that either his escape had been kept under wraps or, more likely, given the amount he’d bled out on the floor they’d assumed he’d died anyway. Though the further they walked in the hot sun, the more Iroh felt like dying was still a distinct possibility. Even though they had only gone a short way, he was bone tired. His whole body felt heavy, as if someone had somehow turned up gravity, yet his head felt oddly light. He was also no longer hot, instead nearly shivering as the steady breeze blew cool across his damp face and neck. He was going to have to be careful. Iroh didn’t know what would happen if he simply collapsed, but it probably wouldn’t make the Avatar’s job any easier. 

What was worse, as much as he’d tried to keep up with the conversations, he was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Korra’s mission or no, he was the one in the group with the most experience working with military units, and if he missed something important the results could be fatal. Fatal, and not just to him. Iroh’s eyes rested on Asami’s back again as she walked ahead next to Korra, and he thought about the men and women who’d sailed with him to the beach. Would reclaiming the second where he’d underestimated Jashan have saved their lives? He wasn’t sure, but he did know that he would never, ever let that happen again. Hands firmly inside his pockets, Iroh dug his fingernails deep into the meat of his palms. He _had_ to stay alert.

“You don’t look so great, I,” Mako muttered next to him, as if reading his thoughts.

“I’m fine,” Iroh growled. There was nothing to be done now, anyway. It was too late to go back. “Just keep a lookout. If they’re going to outright jump us, it will be soon.”

Tschuna and Hazon led them down a winding path through a series of low hills that, to Iroh, all looked more or less the same. It was a good setup for a camp, he thought. At least from this direction, there was no line of sight or direct way to approach, and the blowing sand made it so there was no discernable path. One could get lost easily here. A good thing to remember if they had to leave in a hurry.

After about five minutes of walking, the hills opened up into the camp proper. Iroh saw he hadn’t been wrong with the comparison to Fa Re, the little mining town where he and Asami had once refueled their plane. A series of structures surrounded a central hill, arrayed around its front like a fan. The permanent buildings appeared to be mostly earthen or stone, with the occasional metal roof or door, but a number of tipi-like tents of various sizes had been erected in seemingly every available space between. Still, for all it’s apparent haphazardness, Iroh could see that the tents more or less followed a pattern, going from smaller to larger as one approached the center of the camp, and always slightly to the right in order to make a reliable avenue between them and the next closest building. He also noted the slight slope to the camp and a number of shallow channels, which he assumed was some kind of drainage. These people might not have much, but they were clearly competent and organized; it would be easy to underestimate them.

As they reached the first of the buildings their two guides signaled them to wait. Tschuna said something to Korra that Iroh couldn’t hear, then disappeared into the camp. Hazon turned, keeping a wary eye on the party, his broad mouth pressed into a thin line. No one talked. 

Tschuna appeared a few minutes later followed by four new individuals dressed in the same drab garb as she and Hazon. Smart. That brought her numbers up to match theirs, meaning each person could focus on one of them as they made their way to wherever it was they were going. It was immediately obvious to Iroh that Hazon had marked him. Objectively, it made sense. Iroh was the biggest member of their group, physically, as was Hazon. But more than that, he was sure that Tschuna knew enough about him to consider him as a serious threat, perhaps second only to the Avatar. Yet clearly she was going based on prior knowledge. The way Iroh felt now, he thought little Illea could probably take him without too much trouble. But if they wanted to waste a powerful asset watching someone who wasn’t all that dangerous, Iroh wasn’t going to stop them. 

The men and women from SWE fanned out in a loose circle around their group, then led them down one of the avenues into the center of the camp. They came out after a short walk into a kind of open courtyard ringed on three sides by stone buildings and tents. The fourth side, the area directly in front of them, was taken up by a large hill, the front of which seemed to have been partially cut away. A large, square hole about Iroh’s height and twice as weide was carved into the hill, braced by pillars of stone. The sandy floor descended at a sharp angle into the ground. The mine, then.

Instead of stopping in the courtyard, they turned left and crossed the open space into a low-ceilinged tent. Unlike the tipis, in this area a large rectangular canvas tarp had been suspended on a framework of poles, tied down on the sides by long cables of thick rope. The brown canvas flapped gently in the wind. Set up underneath were a number of long communal tables. Iroh guessed that this was what passed for a mess. 

Speaker Jashan was waiting for them at the far end of the tent. She was flanked by about 20 others, including a few whom Iroh recognized from his earlier encounter. Cuzon stared at him from behind his gold spectacles, his face a mask. Standing next to him was Kjyn, and as Iroh watched Tschuna joined him on the other side. Jashan looked even shorter in the midst of everyone else, and appeared more like a stout matron posing at a family reunion than a rebel leader. But Iroh wouldn’t underestimate her this time. 

“Welcome, Avatar Korra and party,” Jashan said. “I am Speaker Jashan.” She made a little bow in Korra’s direction, her dark curls bouncing against her round face, then scanned the group. Her eyes lingered on Iroh. “And welcome back, General Iroh. I didn’t think we’d see you again.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Asami stiffen. Iroh said nothing, but inclined his head slightly, both returning her bow and trying to make it clear that his greeting included everyone in the group. 

“Thank you, Speaker Jashan,” Korra said. She glanced around, as if suddenly noticing that they’d gone from an advantage in numbers to evenly matched to outnumbered more than four to one in a matter of minutes. But rather than intimidate her, Korra seemed to take it as a challenge. She threw her head back, chin thrust forward. “So, let’s get down to business.”

***

Korra re-stated what she’d told Tschuna and Hazon about their purpose, which was identical to what Iroh had told Jashan earlier that week. He thought that consistency might be important in building trust, and was happy that she’d stuck to the script. He was also grateful that, after initial introductions, Jashan had invited them to sit. Iroh slumped heavily down onto one of the benches, barely stifling a sigh of relief. As he pushed his sweaty hair back off his forehead his vision swam a little, the canvas roof reeling. _Sitting,_ Iroh thought, _and not a moment too soon._ He rested his elbows on the table, trying to pass it off as looking interested instead of bracing his upper body, and briefly closed his eyes. He took a few quiet deep breaths, and when he opened them again the world was still. _Good._ Asami tried to catch his eyes, a silent question on her face. He steadfastly ignored her.

Instead, Iroh looked back to the front of the room and noticed Cuzon staring at him. He looked down and saw that, with his elbows on the table, the sleeves of his uniform had slipped down a little. The bright white bandages on his left wrist stood out starkly against his skin. Iroh reached over and tugged his sleeve up, but not before he saw Cuzon grimace. 

Korra remained standing. She addressed the entire group from SWE, making sure to maintain eye contact with all of them as he’d instructed. She talked about the role of the Avatar, and how her job was to bring balance to the world, which in her mind included resolving conflicts peacefully where she could. There was some quiet murmuring among the others at that, but Jashan’s face remained neutral. 

“Thank you, Avatar Korra,” Jashan said, once she’d finished. “That was most enlightening. But, we ask, what is balance to you?”

“What do you mean?” Korra asked. 

“I mean, we can hardly call you unbiased.” Jashan took a quiet step forward, as if lecturing to a class. “After all, you live in the United Republic of Nations. You show up here with a Republic City police officer in your party, not to mention the General of the United Forces. The same United Forces that, less than a week ago, were planning to invade our country on behalf of the Earth Kingdom. In fact, except for Miss Beifong, I believe all of you live in Republic City; and I can’t say that adding a member of the Earth Kingdom aristocracy is exactly heartening.”

“But I don’t represent the United Republic!” Korra said, balling her fists in frustration. “I’m from the Southern Water Tribe. I just live there now. Opal might be from the Earth Kingdom, but she’s an airbender now on Air Temple Island. And Iroh’s about as Fire Nation as you can get.” Korra looked at their little group. “I don’t think you can be much more representative than us. But even if we weren’t, I’m the Avatar. This is my _job._ No matter where I live at the moment.”

“Your job, you say,” Jashan countered. She narrowed her eyes, for the first time looking angry instead of only dismissive. “Where was the _Avatar_ when SWE was conquered? Where was the _Avatar_ when my husband died? When my son was forced to leave to find work, never to return? No one has ever been on our side, Avatar Korra. Why start now? So forgive us if we don’t trust a teenager who just shows up out of nowhere saying we need to talk. I’m sorry. We have momentum. We flattened the United Forces. Coming to the table now makes us weak. We can win this. You offer us nothing.”

“Even if it means more people will die?” Korra asked.

“It’s not about any one of us,” Jashan said, in what Iroh thought was an eerie echo of Cuzon. “There are… necessary sacrifices. But we can’t stop now. We can’t. The Earth Queen does not want to talk. She has sent no delegation. This may be our only shot in the next 50 years to take back what is ours.”

“So it’s independence or bust? You won’t even try?”

“ _This is how we try.”_ Jashan wasn’t shouting, but it was close. 

“But how are you going to get independence if you won’t even _talk_ to anyone?" Korra retorted. "Just fight forever?” But it was clear to Iroh that she was losing the argument. It wasn’t even close. Jashan was talking circles around her.

“Speaker Jashan,” Iroh said loudly. Every eye in the room swiveled to him. “You have been presented with new information. Yet you do not confer. How do we know that you truly speak for the committee?” He closed his eyes for a long moment, some small part of him unable to believe that he’d spoken. Everything he had done, everything he had worked for his entire life, practically his whole identity, and all it came down to this. A dusty bench in the middle of nowhere, fighting for some godforsaken patch of earth filled with people who only wanted to kill him. Yet here he was. 

_Fuck your honor, Iroh._ Asami’s voice, a distant echo in the back of his mind. Spirits, how he wished sometimes that he could be that person. That he could be content to be his brother Kazai, or even Prince Wu, living a comfortable life in some palace, everything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. But he wasn’t. He never had been. All he had now was to hope that that was worth something. And that she would understand.

There were mutterings among the group from SWE. He saw Cuzon turn quickly to Kjyn, whispering fast into her ear.

“You are not Speaker,” Jashan said sharply. “If you have something to say, discuss it amongst yourselves.”

“But I _am_ Speaker,” Iroh said. Slowly, bracing one hand against the table, he stood. There was no way out now but through. He reached into the inside of his uniform and pulled out the letter he’d copied down in the communications room that morning, the words and protocol dictated by the Firelord herself. “Not for this group, nor the United Republic of Nations, nor for the Avatar. As of this moment, I resign my commission as General of the United Forces. I am Prince Iroh II, Speaker for the Fire Nation.”


	81. IROH

_I resign my commission as General of the United Forces._

Iroh couldn’t quite believe he’d done it. Saying the words, saying them and meaning them, had caused him almost physical pain; a twisting, tearing sensation in his chest, as if he’d peeled back his ribs and squeezed off a piece of his heart. Everything he’d ever worked for, a decade of training and singular focus, practically his whole identity, gone in the blink of an eye. Iroh had known from the time he’d called the Agni Kai with Cuzon that his actions would likely cost him his position. But there was a difference between something that someone else might do to him in the future, and the feeling of having done it, voluntarily, to himself. It was, he supposed, rather like the difference between waiting for an execution and slitting your own wrist. Given recent events, Iroh guessed he shouldn’t be surprised which he’d ultimately chosen. Yet a deep part of him, the part that had always desperately wanted to belong, to prove himself, to be the best at something, howled in anguish at the severance, the same way that he’d cried out in the dark when the cold razor had bit into his flesh.

Iroh loved the United Forces. He knew it wasn’t always obvious, especially lately, but in a lot of ways what he felt for the Forces wasn’t all that different from what he felt for his own family. He’d grown up there. His first real loves, his first real losses, and nearly all his accomplishments—everything that had turned a tall, skinny kid overshadowed by his brothers into the man he was today—had happened in the UF. He’d bled for it, and it for him. He didn’t know anything else. But even more than that, _he_ wasn’t anything else. Three-quarters of his acquaintance only knew him as “General Iroh.” Spirits, after the encounter with the Triple Threats he didn’t even own a nice pair of clothes that wasn’t a uniform. And now he would never wear one again.

He was, for the first time since he was 17, just Iroh. And it was agony.

The room erupted into chaos. 

“Fire Nation!” 

“Iroh, no!” 

“What the hell?”

“Quiet!”

Iroh ignored it all and shoved down his feelings, keeping his eyes firmly on Jashan. Devastated or no, he wasn’t about to make it a pointless sacrifice by missing the moment. 

He’d long suspected that Jashan might be as good a Pai Sho player as Asami, which is why she’d always been one step ahead of him. He had no doubt that she had something up her sleeve, maybe several things, and that he had little chance of guessing all of them. Iroh beat Asami maybe a quarter of the time, often enough to keep the games competitive but not enough to stake anyone’s life on, and he’d decided that he had to stop thinking he’d simply get lucky. The way he most often beat Asami wasn’t by getting ahead of her at all, but by moving sideways—literally. She called it his sidewinder, and had always chalked it off to style, but Iroh had managed to keep the real trick a secret: it was completely random. If Asami was three or four moves ahead no matter what strategy he employed, sometimes the best bet was to proceed with no strategy at all. He’d flip a tile four times, each representing a direction—under the table, if he could swing it—and, based on how they came up, move his piece in whatever way the series indicated. Sometimes this ended the game quickly, but more often than it should have it broke her focus just enough for him to pull off a win. Simply put, Asami spent so much time trying to figure out what the hell he was doing that she missed something else he really _was_ doing. 

Which is why, never taking his eyes off Jashan, Iroh was really watching Cuzon. 

Bringing the full weight of the Fire Nation to the proceedings wasn’t the gambit. It was just window dressing. Excruciating, career-ending, life-altering; yet window dressing all the same. After all, in any objective sense it only made the situation worse. For one, it meant that no one here represented the United Forces, or the United Republic for that matter. A key player had, effectively, been dropped. Not only that but, if there was an attack against him now, someone like Ano wouldn’t be able to retaliate. Officially, the UF weren’t involved. And, as a private citizen now, assuming Jashan still had Hiroshi Sato’s contract to fulfill she’d no longer need to make Iroh’s death look like a casualty of war. Second, by declaring himself Speaker, he had removed himself from the party of the Avatar. They’d be acting independently. Which only made sense if there was some kind of disagreement between them already. Without lifting a finger, Jashan had split her opposition in two. Third, it was well-known that the Fire Nation had no desire to enter into international disagreements. His mother, and his grandfather before her, had often been quoted as saying that their country had spent too much of its history in pointless conflict, and that war was a last resort. Which meant that, though the Fire Nation might bring diplomatic credibility, Iroh now had no army as back up. By trading the United Forces for the Fire Nation, he’d brought their real firepower down from hundreds of troops to only the six of them. And there was no way that Jashan or the committee would entertain the idea of hostages now, not if Iroh was representing a sovereign nation. If things went badly she’d kill them all outright, and probably have more than a week to hide their bodies and the airship in any one of the countless mines before packing up camp and denying they’d ever met. Taking on the Avatar was no joke, but they were outnumbered in enemy territory, and Iroh was doing his best to look every bit as terrible as he felt.

Simply put, it was meant to look arrogant, desperate, and really, really dumb. 

But it let Iroh do two things. First, he hoped that it was a move Jashan hadn’t anticipated, because it made no sense whatsoever. Separating himself from the Avatar, tanking his career in the process, and banking on support from a country everyone knew would never involve itself? If Jashan was anything like Asami, it might make her spend time trying to figure out how it _did_ make sense, not believing that Iroh would deliberately do something so stupid. 

Which, assuming it being a stupid move was obvious to everyone with at least basic strategic ability, also allowed him to look for something very particular. Iroh might not be as good as Asami at Pai Sho, but he was a lot better than she was at reading people. He had some blind spots for sure, mostly when it came to himself—for example, he’d rarely been able to tell when people were interested in him romantically, Asami included—but when it came to players, opponents, he knew he was excellent. It was one of the things that had allowed him to excel as a general, despite being rather quiet. Generals were usually big personalities, battering their way to the top like so many blunt instruments. Iroh made up for this by being a precision weapon. He didn’t say much, but he paid attention, and what he did say was more often than not exactly what was needed.

So, holding Jashan’s gaze in what he hoped looked like challenge, Iroh watched Cuzon. And then he saw it. Not confusion, or fear, or even the suspicion that flashed across Speaker Jashan’s face. 

Surprise. Surprise, and then guilt.

 _Good._ Iroh thought. _I can work with guilt._


	82. ASAMI

“Iroh, no!” Asami shouted, but she wasn’t the only one. Bolin and Mako had yelled as well, Bolin jumping to his feet. 

“You can’t!”

“No way!” 

“Resign?!”

Iroh himself didn’t move, nor did he look at her. He stood completely still, straight-backed and resolute in his crimson uniform, and for a moment he looked every inch a Fire Nation prince. He had eyes for no one but Jashan. 

On the other side of the tent, the group from SWE was also talking loudly amongst themselves. Only Korra seemed unsurprised. She stood there among the tables, her back to them, and Asami saw her shoulders slump slightly. She and Iroh must have agreed this is what he would do if he sensed things were going badly, then. 

Slowly, the room quieted. “Thank you, thank you,” Jashan said loudly, quelling the last of the noise. Her face seemed neutral, but her voice was like ice. “Clearly, this changes our conversation. We request that we break for a few minutes to discuss this new development amongst ourselves. Speaker Korra, and Speaker Iroh, I suppose, with your permission?”

Iroh broke his gaze and turned to Korra. She met his eyes, then gave him a slight nod. “Fine with me,” she said.

“I accept as well,” said Iroh. 

Speaker Jashan bowed in thanks, then turned to her companions, too far away for Asami to hear their hushed conversation. Iroh, in turn, pulled Korra aside and was talking low and fast. But Asami had already decided that she didn’t want to hear. Suddenly the air inside the tent felt too close. Instead she stood and started walking back the way they had come, out into the open area in front of the cut-away hillside. Bolin made to follow her, but she held up a hand. She was sure that he had questions too, but she needed a few minutes alone first. About halfway across the space she turned right, walking into the shade between the tents and buildings. A couple of feet in she stopped, not wanting to wander too far into the settlement but unsure what exactly to do next, or even what she was feeling.

Too many thoughts swirled together in her head. Whatever had just happened, Iroh had clearly discussed it with Korra. Korra, and not her. And not only not discussed—he hadn’t even told Asami it was a possibility. She knew that he more or less considered his job forfeit for going against President Raiko, but that somehow seemed different from whatever it was he’d just done. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d disobeyed orders. It was like Korra had said at his party—Iroh was a good soldier, but he’d never do something he felt was wrong. But he’d also, so far, managed to get away with it. The last time it had actually led to them working together. Which, of course, would now also end. If Iroh left the United Forces, he left the RCCC as well. Even if they hadn’t been a couple, they’d always made a good team, and Asami had loved working with someone smart, capable, and interested in new ideas. She didn’t have to imagine RC command with a different United Forces lead; she’d been living it for weeks with Iroh’s replacement, and it sucked. If that became the permanent situation, she didn’t think she’d stay long in the role herself. 

And what happened now? Assuming they all got out of this alive, did it mean that Iroh had to be Prince Iroh II all the time? Of course Asami knew there were some duties associated with his role in the royal family, but up until now they had been mostly excused, it being understood that Iroh’s position in the United Forces kept him busy. Would they have to move to the Fire Nation now, or was Future Industries important enough to keep them in Republic City? Or, if Iroh was asked to represent his country on a regular basis, would he be sent somewhere else entirely? Did anyone even care what the girlfriend of a prince wanted? Iroh would, she knew that, but if he was entirely dependent on his family, how much control would he have? And, a dark part of her mind whispered, would it change who he was allowed to marry? Iroh’s family had been nothing but kind to her, but Inae was Fire Nation nobility, as was Matsu’s new love interest. It wasn’t like Iroh hadn’t always been a prince as well, but if that aspect became the focus of his life, did the expectations for him change? 

Asami heard the faint scratch of boots on sand and looked up, shaking off her thoughts. To her surprise it wasn’t Bolin having followed her anyway, but Iroh himself. He paused at the entrance to the alley and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes and came out looking more like a grimace. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Sure.” 

Iroh walked past her, then turned and slumped against the side of the building. He leaned back, resting his head against the rough brown stone, and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

“Which part?” It came out sounding harsher than she meant it.

Iroh continued leaning his head back, not looking at her. He looked drained, the regal figure from only a few minutes ago replaced with someone who seemed suddenly so much younger, and infinitely more tired. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about plan B. I thought it would look bad if it seemed to come as a surprise to everyone.” He huffed out a breath and looked skyward. “And, maybe, I was worried you’d talk me out of it. Or that I’d let myself get talked out of it.” 

_Look bad… why would it need to look bad? Unless…_ “Iroh, you’re baiting them?” 

Iroh barked out a quiet laugh, then rolled his head to look at her. One corner of his mouth twitched into a sad smile. “Nothing gets past you, does it? Yes. It’s the best I could think of."

"But why? Or why now? We just got here."

"It’s clear that Jashan doesn’t want to talk," he answered. He shook his head slightly. "I don’t know why. I might never know why. But she’s only one person. I figured, if I fell on my sword hard enough, and changed the board a bit in the process, I could unblock her somehow.”

Asami's anger faded at the obvious hurt in his voice. However upset she was, and uncertain about the future, she couldn't imagine what it felt like to Iroh. He’d been in the United Forces his whole life. But in that light, the move made sense. It was how Iroh often played strategy games, too. Not so much with her, because she usually saw through it, but with others. He’d make some kind of obvious mistake and use that to tempt someone else into moving to his advantage. “But Iroh, are you sure?” she asked. “Leaving the United Forces? Dragging the Fire Nation into this? It’s a bit dramatic.”

He laughed again, a hollow sound that had no joy in it. “That’s what makes it good.”

Asami shook her head. “No, I get that. I mean, are you sure SWE is worth it? It’s not like the Southern Water Tribe, where we were trying to protect innocent people from an outright takeover. How many of your people have these guys killed? How many times have they tried to kill you? If Jashan doesn’t want to deal, why not just walk away?”

“Because I can walk away,” Iroh said. He leaned back into the wall again and looked at the sky. “I decide I’m done here, and I am. Think what a luxury that is. To grow up somewhere safe, with a family that’s whole, getting to choose what does and doesn’t affect me. But I walk away, and the people in SWE stay poor. They keep dying. They don’t have a choice. They can’t win against the Earth Kingdom, not alone, no matter what Jashan says. It’s not fair, Asami. And I think it’s time more people like me were willing to trade a little comfort and security to change that.”

Suddenly, Asami felt selfish. She reached for his hand with her ungloved one, her anger fading. It felt clammy and cold as she folded it into her own. Iroh was never cold, and even in the shade it was hot out. A small worm of worry wiggled its way into her stomach. “How can I help?” she asked.

Iroh smiled a little at her touch and something in his shoulders seemed to relax. “I don’t know,” he said. He pushed himself up off the wall and turned to face her, not letting go of her hand. “You’re smarter than me, Asami. Don’t”—she’d started to open her mouth—“bother denying it, we both know it’s true. And there are different kinds of smart, I understand that. But the good ideas are usually yours. The magnet you and Varrick made, and how you and Bolin got me out of the camp. Stalling the Triple Threats with that bogus thing about the passcodes. The electric fence in the South Pole.” Iroh squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Just trust yourself. I do.”

At his words Asami felt a warm glow in her center. Such a little word, _trust,_ and yet such a big one, too. She smiled at him, then asked, “So what happens now, Speaker Iroh?”

Iroh ran his free hand through his hair, then looked down at his feet. “I… well, you said once, why couldn’t I just be a prince like my brothers? So maybe… maybe it’s time I give that a try. It’s been a while.” He glanced up, meeting her eye. “But I’d still like a princess,” he said soberly. “I don’t know what it’s going to look like, and I don’t have all the answers, but I know it will be better together. Even if you don’t get a general.”

Asami shook her head. “I never wanted a general. Or a prince. I wanted an Iroh. Do I still get that?”

Iroh smiled, a real smile this time. It completely changed his face, wiping away the exhaustion and sadness, and for a brief moment he was the man who had handed her a bundle of herbs and called them flowers. He let go of her hand and reached up to brush her cheek, his expression almost amazed. “How did I get so lucky?” he muttered.

Asami stepped forwards and kissed him. “By being Iroh,” she murmured against his lips. His hand drifted to the back of her neck as he pulled her close, kissing her back in a way that he rarely did unless he knew they were alone. 

Eventually they pulled apart. “We should get back,” he said. Iroh squeezed the back of her neck gently, then his eyes flicked to something behind her. “Quick,” he whispered suddenly, dropping his hand, “argue with me.”

“What?” Asami heard it now, the light swish of footsteps in the open area behind her.

Iroh took a step back, then said rather loudly, “I don’t know about the money, but I’ll figure it out.”

Asami paused. Argue, he’d said. He must be putting on some sort of show for someone? She didn’t quite get it, and couldn’t see without turning. She’d have to trust him and go with it. “I don’t see how,” she shot back. 

Iroh flashed her the faintest smile, then narrowed his thick brows in concern. “Look, I know it’s not what you wanted, but we were out of options and this is important. I’ll… I’ll find something else, or…” He ran a hand through his hair again, like he did when he was nervous or upset, then said, “Please, give me time to figure this out. I can’t do this without you.”

Ah. So she was supposed to be dumping him. “I don’t know, Iroh,” Asami said. “I run one of the most successful companies in the United Republic. I don’t think I can be with someone who just lives off their parents forever. Or am I supposed to support you?”

“No, of course not. I’ll think of something, I promise.”

“How do I even introduce you now?” she snapped. “'Oh hi, this is Iroh, he used to be important but then he decided to throw it all away for some worthless dirt country?'” She’d stolen the line from Varrick, but it seemed to fit. 

“Excuse me,” said a man’s voice behind her. “Miss Sato, if I’m not interrupting, I’d like a word with Ge— er, Prince Iroh.”

“That’s okay,” Asami said curtly. “We’re done.” She mouthed “good luck” to Iroh, who gave her the barest tilt of his head in acknowledgement, then turned. Commander Cuzon stood at the mouth of the alley they’d walked down. His hands were clasped behind his back, rigid, as if he were submitting for review. He scowled at her, and she guessed that he’d heard her comment about SWE. 

She shouldered past Cuzon, trying as hard as she could to look angry and realizing that facing the man who’d betrayed her fianceé didn’t make it all that difficult, then made her way back to the tent. Korra sat with Bolin, Opal, and Mako at one of the tables closest to the entrance, clearly trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the men and women from SWE clustered at the far end. 

“But Korra, _what is he doing?_ ” Bolin asked as Asami approached. 

“I didn’t like it either,” Korra said. She had her back to Asami, and hadn’t seen her yet. “But Iroh can’t negotiate as General of the United Forces, not against President Raiko’s express orders. Something about failing to follow the rules of engagement. According to Iroh it’s a stretch of the interpretation, but he wouldn’t put it past Raiko to charge him with whatever he could get away with, and I wouldn’t, either. This way, at least he’s out.” 

Mako looked up, catching her eye. “Asami. Did Iroh find you?” She nodded, climbing over the bench to sit next to Korra. “And you’re okay?”

Asami nodded again. “I’m fine. I’m worried about Iroh, but when am I not? He knows what he’s doing. And if it turns out he doesn’t, that’s what we’re here for.” She turned to Korra and smiled. “Besides, we’ve got the Avatar.” 

Mako shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Are _you_ okay? You looked upset.”

“Of course I was upset,” she said, surprising herself. She hadn’t planned on being that honest, especially with Mako. Asami shook her head. “Or I was. I’m okay now, we talked. I know Iroh had his reasons for not telling me about this part of the plan, good reasons, but still. I love him so much, but sometimes the way he thinks he has to do things alone just… I don’t know what to do with that. But I’m working on him.” She smiled. “Maybe when we’re old and wrinkly he’ll finally let me all the way in.”

“It’s lonely at the top,” Korra said quietly. Everybody looked at her. “Sorry,” she said. “That came out weird. But it is. There’s only one Avatar, right? And you guys are great and all, but often it’s up to me. Especially decisions. Everyone looks to me, and trusts my instincts.” She gestured vaguely, seemingly including everyone in the world in her statement. “When I do something wrong, people get hurt. So you get used to calling the shots, and you get used to taking the blame. Most of the time, you _should_ take the blame. I love being the Avatar, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a lot. And I think being General of the United Forces maybe isn’t all that different.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Opal said. She’d been rather quiet since leaving the airship, mostly sticking close to Bolin, and Asami had almost forgotten about her. “Sometimes I think Aunt Lin is a little like that, too. She and my mom barely spoke for years, and my mom says it’s because Aunt Lin blames herself for some things she shouldn’t because of her position.”

Mako nodded. “I’d believe that. If there’s one thing Chief Beifong is, it’s serious.”

“Yeah,” Asami chimed in, “my fa—” She froze.

“Your what?” asked Bolin.

“I just thought of something.” Asami stood. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then started walking towards the far side of the tent.

“What are you doing?” Korra called.

“Eliminating variables.”


	83. ASAMI

Asami stalked across the tent to where Speaker Jashan was talking to a circle of other men and women from SWE. Someone tapped Jashan as she approached.

“May I help you?” Jashan said. “We had hoped to keep our deliberations private.” She used the same tone as Asami’s assistant at Future Industries, inquiring and helpful, but her eyes were cold. Up close, Asami thought she looked older. Deep creases framed her light green eyes, and there were tiny hints of gray in her dark curls. She wondered briefly what it might be like to live fifty years or more in a place like SWE. Who might that kind of life turn you into?

“How much?” Asami asked her. She kept her voice low, perfectly audible to the group but hopefully quiet enough that it wouldn’t carry back to Korra and the others. Like Iroh, she didn’t need anyone talking her out of this.

Jashan narrowed her eyes, the friendliness on her face fading. “How much what?”

“How much did my father pay for the fake mecha? Hiroshi Sato. I know that he put up the money that allowed you all to steal all of that light mecha from the United Forces without anyone noticing, and that allowed you to send hundreds of people into a battle you knew they couldn’t win. So, how much was it?”

A quiet whisper ran through the group. It seemed that only a select few had been in on this part of the plan, then. That was good information to know. Asami made a mental note to tell Iroh and Korra. 

All good humor was gone from Jashan’s face now. She pressed her lips together into a thin line, then said, “That isn’t how I would characterize it.”

“I don’t much care,” Asami said. “I have a new offer, and I think you’ll want to hear it. But first, I have to know how much.”

“I hardly see how it’s your business, Miss Sato,” Jashan said. “The deal is done, the battle over, and the mecha ours.”

“No,” said Asami. “You all made it my business when the price became my fianceé.” More whispering in the group. Interesting. “So tell me. How much did you trade Prince Iroh’s life for? _My_ life? What was he worth to you?”

Frowning, but clearly backed into a corner now, Jashan told her. It was more than she thought, but, considering what the true price had been, hardly anything. “Are you satisfied, Miss Sato?”

“Hardly. I’m here to buy him.”

Jashan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m here to buy him,” Asami said firmly. “You still owe my father. Iroh is, as you can see, very much alive. That’s a problem for you. Having him dead is a problem for me. So, I’m buying him.”

“Miss Sato,” Jashan said, folding her hands primly in her lap, “we reject the notion that anyone in our group would harm another during what’s clearly a diplomatic proceeding, let alone a Speaker for a party. I—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Asami snapped. “Prince Iroh came here under a banner of peace on Monday and you tried to kill him then, too. You killed everyone he came with.” 

Jashan looked like she’d been slapped. The muttering in the group got louder. “Quiet!” she hissed to the group. “That’s not what happened. And I resent—”

“I don’t care,” Asami said. “I don’t care if that’s not how you’d _characterize_ it. Iroh’s the diplomat now. But I’m a businesswoman. Whatever you speakers decide today, I want killing Iroh off the table. Do you want my money, or am I going to have to make you take it?” She curled the fist inside her electric glove ever so slightly and saw Jashan’s eyes flick to her hand. Good.

“Even if you insist,” the older woman said slowly, “I’m not sure that will work, Miss Sato. Unless you have nothing but gold stuffed in that bag of yours over there, you don’t have the money on you. And while I continue to affirm that we’d never harm a Speaker during a time like this, the fact remains that we in SWE have had quite enough of empty promises.”

Asami hadn’t thought of that. Who didn’t take credit? “I can get you—”

“No, Miss Sato,” Jashan said, and for the first time her smile looked genuine. “Just as you do not trust us not to harm Speaker Iroh, we do not trust you to deliver anything to us later. I’m sorry. I’m afraid that we are going to have to work on our trust before we can negotiate further.”

Asami looked down, then swallowed hard. If Iroh could make sacrifices without asking her, so could she. Slowly, she removed her engagement ring. “You’re earthbenders, right?” she said, looking up. She held the ring so that everyone in the group could see. The golden gems flashed as she turned it. “Do you know what this is? They’re fire sapphires. A matched set. I heard it’s priceless, one of a kind. Well, so is Prince Iroh. So let’s trade. You take this, even black market you’ll get enough to pay back my father with plenty leftover. Tell him the deal is off.” 

There was another murmur across the group. Clearly at least some of them recognized the value of such a piece. 

“No,” said Jashan. 

Asami blinked. “What do you mean, no? This is worth a dozen times over what you owe.”

“I mean, no. Fire Nation royal jewels? The challenge of selling such a work isn’t worth the risk. We already have what we need.”

“But think of what else you could get!” Asami said. “Food, weapons, ships that aren’t stolen. You want to fight the Earth Queen’s army, you’ll need more than a few fire smackers and a bag of tricks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No!” Asami shook her head, then looked pleadingly at the rest of the group. “Does she speak for you here? I understand you need to reach consensus. I’m not leaving, I’m not giving up, until you actually talk about it.” 

“Really, Miss Sato,” Jashan said. “I hardly think that’s necessary. I am Speaker, and I speak for all of us.”

Asami crossed her arms, making herself look as immovable as possible. “Prove it.”

***

She walked back towards where she had left her friends a few minutes later. The spot on her left hand felt oddly bare. It was funny how quickly one got used to things. Asami reached up and tugged her hair out of its ponytail, then wound the ribbon around her finger instead. If nothing else, she never wanted Iroh to get the wrong idea again.

Speaking of Iroh, it seemed that he hadn’t returned yet. To her surprise, Korra now sat alone at the table. She looked up at Asami with a grateful smile, clearly glad to no longer be abandoned. 

“Where did everyone go?” Asami asked, sitting down across from her. A part of her wanted to go check on Iroh, just in case there was trouble, but that would ruin any advantage their fake fight had given him. He was close enough that they would hear a yell. A few more minutes, and then perhaps she’d ask Korra or one of the others to make sure all was well. 

“Getting some drinks and snacks before we start talking again,” Korra said. “As Speaker or whatever, I wanted to stay here, especially with Iroh having wandered off. Where is Iroh, anyway? And what on earth were you doing over there?”

Asami dropped her voice. “Like I said, eliminating variables.” She showed Korra the ribbon on her hand, and her friend’s eyes grew huge with surprise.

“What did you  _ do?  _ What the hell kind of variable means you lost your big-ass engagement ring?”

Asami told her. Korra shook her head in disbelief. “He’s going to kill you,” she said. “Didn’t you say that thing was some special Fire Nation thing worth like a bajillion yuans?”

“Better no ring and an Iroh than some rock and no one to actually marry.” She shrugged. “If Iroh has a problem with that, tough shit. It was mine, and I can do what I want with it.”

Korra looked skeptical, but changed the subject. “So where is the big fireball, anyway? He went off to find you, but you came back without him.”

“I left Iroh talking to Cuzon,” Asami said quietly. “He had us pretend to fight, so I think he’s got some sort of plan, but I don’t know what. If he’s much longer though, I think one of us should go make sure he’s okay. Cuzon already betrayed Iroh once, after all.”

Korra nodded. “Gotcha. And before you ask, whatever he might be trying, he didn’t tell me this part.”

Asami laughed a little. “Lonely at the top, indeed.”

Korra gave her a wry smile. “Sure is. As for the others, that woman Tschuna came by and asked if we could help her carry some refreshments. You know neither Bolin or Mako would turn down helping a damsel in distress, and I think Opal still wonders a bit why she’s here and is trying to do anything she can to help. They left right after you did. I’ve just been sitting here like a chump ever since. Some diplomat. What good is being Speaker if I’ve got no group to speak for?”

Alarm bells started going off in the back of Asami’s head. “Wait, you just let them walk off with her?” 

Korra frowned. “What?”

“Korra, there’s more going on here than we thought. When I talked to Jashan there, it seemed like most of her group that she’s supposedly speaking for had no clue about the fake mecha or handicapping the United Forces, let alone that Iroh and his group were taken out while trying to discuss peace. But Tschuna was part of Cuzon’s team inside the UF. She’s inner circle. I trust her about as far as I can throw an elephant koi. She’s got a whole camp full of soldiers, why come over here to ask for help carrying drinks?”

Korra’s eyes flew open, but Asami had already jumped up. She held out a hand. “No, Korra, we still need you here. Find Iroh, tell him what I told you. Which direction? I’ll find the others. It’s probably nothing, but if it’s not, I’ll make noise.” She grabbed her bag of electric bombs and threw it over her shoulder, wincing slightly as they clinked together. “I’m good at that.”

Then she took off at a run.


	84. IROH

“Look, I know it’s not what you wanted, but we were out of options and this is important. I’ll… I’ll find something else, or…” Iroh trailed off as Cuzon rounded the corner into the alley. He stopped short, a flicker of uncertainty on his face. Iroh did his best to look upset and ignore the other man, making like he was so absorbed in the fight with Asami he hadn’t seen him yet. But he was thinking fast. What did Cuzon care about? He’d always envied Iroh for his position, and growing up rich. And he’d seemed to be staying with his sister-in-law. So, career, money, family. Let’s see what happened when he took those away.

“Please,” Iroh begged her, “give me time to figure this out. I can’t do this without you.”

“I don’t know, Iroh,” Asami said, frowning at him in mock disappointment. She’d clearly caught on to his idea. Not that he’d had had any doubts. They’d been a great team almost from the moment they’d met, even if it had taken them a year to figure out what it meant. “I run one of the most successful companies in the United Republic,” she continued. “I don’t think I can be with someone who just lives off their parents forever. Or am I supposed to support you?”

That stung a little, even if he knew it was an act. Iroh hated the idea of relying on his allowance, even though it was more than he’d ever need to be comfortable. “No, of course not,” he said, only half-pretending now. “I’ll think of something, I promise.” 

“How do I even introduce you now?” said Asami. She pitched her voice high, mocking. “‘Oh hi, this is Iroh, he used to be important but then he decided to throw it all away for some worthless dirt country?’” 

Behind her, Cuzon’s whole face contorted. Apparently, he’d had enough. “Excuse me,” he said angrily. “Miss Sato, if I’m not interrupting, I’d like a word with Ge— er, Prince Iroh.”

Using his royal title? Interesting. Iroh looked up, hoping to look surprised to see him. “That’s okay,” Asami said at the same time. “We’re done.” Her green eyes met his and she mouthed “good luck,” then turned and disappeared around the corner. 

Iroh turned to Cuzon and sighed. “Something I can do for you, Cuzon?” he asked, trying to sound dejected. “I’m warning you though, I’ve not much left to give.”

Cuzon glanced behind him. “Walk with me. We only have a minute.” He strode past, turning sideways in the narrow alley, leading him deeper into the camp. Iroh paused for a moment. There was always a chance—and a fairly good chance, at that—that Cuzon was here to kill him. Separating him from the group, and in the state he was in, it wouldn’t even be that difficult. But he hadn’t come all this way not to take any risks. Iroh dropped his right hand to the hilt of the sword, trying to make it look casual, then turned and followed Cuzon.

***

They walked for perhaps two minutes, taking a few turns that Iroh did his best to memorize. He was fairly good with directions, but the buildings and tents were all nearly identical and he was starting to feel lightheaded again. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to find his way out quickly. Eventually Cuzon stopped outside one of the dun-colored tents. He lifted the front and looked inside, then motioned for Iroh to follow. Iroh ducked in after and found himself in a tipi-like structure very similar to the one where he’d been held earlier that week, minus the stone pyramid. Instead, the area inside the tent was taken up with an old metal table, a few mismatched chairs, a neatly made camp bed, and a few crates stacked along the edges. 

Abruptly Iroh felt his vision waver. The tent spun and started to fade. He reached out to steady himself and felt a firm hand on his uninjured arm. He was guided to one of the chairs and sat down heavily. He hung his head between his legs, waiting for the spell to pass. 

“Are you all right?” Cuzon asked. Iroh slowly raised his head to see the other man looking at him with what appeared to be genuine concern. He held out a cup, which Iroh took. He realized he was hot again, and the cool water felt wonderful. 

“Thank you,” he said after he’d drained the cup. Cuzon took it and refilled it from a stone jar in the corner, then sat down as he placed more water in front of Iroh. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. He pointedly looked him up and down. “Or at all.”

“It was close,” Iroh replied, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He realized he was sweating again, too, despite the shade of the tent, and took another sip of water. “No one has told me how close, but I overheard one of the healers say that at one point my heart stopped. If I’d been able to do both arms, you’d be talking to a spirit.” He held up his right wrist to show a few shallow scratches. Iroh hadn’t tried very hard, but he _had_ tried. “Hurt too much. I wasn’t quite able to manage it.”

Cuzon flinched a little at that. 

Iroh shook his head. “I apologize, I’m rambling and time is short. What can I do for you?”

“Why are you here?” Cuzon asked. 

“I’ve been told I’m stubborn,” Iroh said, one corner of his mouth turning up in a wry smile. It was certainly true. Asami had called him stubborn just a few hours ago. Come to think of it, so had Korra. “I get an idea in my head about the right thing to do and then I do it. It’s a personal failing I’ve never been able to kick, no matter how many times it kicks me back.” He shrugged. “I’m not dead yet, so here I am.”

“I’m not joking, Iroh,” Cuzon said, frowning. “You nearly died here. You should have died. Hell, you _look_ like you died. And yet you’re back. Why?” 

“I wasn’t joking, Cuzon,” Iroh said, turning serious. His head was starting to clear a little now that he was sitting. “I still think there’s a real chance that things can get better in SWE without more fighting, and I still think that I can help. All of this”—he gestured at his left arm, then swept his right hand out to include the rest of the camp—“doesn’t change any of that.”

“But why not just send in the Avatar? And why resign and involve the Fire Nation? You didn’t have to do any of that.”

 _This is it,_ Iroh thought. The next few things he said would either win the day, or lose it. He took a breath, hoping like hell he’d guessed right. “You told me,” he said carefully, “when we were landing, that some men would risk everything for what they believe in. You said that you thought I was one of them. I never got a chance to tell you how honored I was to hear that. I swore a duty to serve and protect. I _swore_ it, Cuzon, as did you.” Iroh met his eyes steadily. “I can’t forgive what you’ve done, but I do think I can understand it. Because to do nothing, to stand by and watch others suffer, is unthinkable. I’m here because I want you to be right about me. I want you to be right about both of us.” 

“Even if it costs you the generalship? And”—Cuzon glanced behind him, back the way they had come—“other things? Things you said you’d die for?”

“Yes,” Iroh said firmly. “You’ve made your sacrifices. I’ve made mine. I imagine neither of us are happier for it, but that was never really the point, was it? If I’m so busy keeping my job that I forget to do my job, I don’t deserve it in the first place. Speaking of...” Iroh trailed off as he started to unbutton his uniform jacket, only now remembering. It was a silly thing, but if he wasn’t representing the United Forces he shouldn’t wear the uniform. 

“Leave it,” Cuzon said sharply.

Iroh paused on the second button and looked up. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, leave it on. At least until you get back to the ships. You do it more credit than most, whatever your title now.”

Iroh smiled a little. “You just want to see me boiled to death.”

To his surprise, Cuzon actually laughed. “They definitely didn’t design those for here. What are they, wool?”

“Cotton, but it’s so thick it may as well be arctic camel fur,” said Iroh, doing up the buttons again. “You sure you aren’t just trying to watch me suffer?”

“You don’t seem to need my help for that.” 

It was Iroh’s turn to laugh. “All right. My turn. Why are you here, Cuzon? You didn’t walk me over here just to keep me in my uniform.” He held his breath. 

“Because I have some things of yours.” Iroh frowned a little. He’d been expecting one of two answers, and this hadn’t been either of them. Cuzon reached into a pocket in his loose trousers, then placed two items on the table between them: the picture of him and Asami that he’d had in his uniform jacket, and _A General History of the Western Pirates_. Iroh reached out and took the picture, smiling at it before tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “The picture is an original.” Then he picked up the book. The back cover was stained dark with dried blood, and when he tried to open it several of the pages stuck together. “I’m afraid this one is a lost cause though. It’s a shame, I wasn’t finished.”

Cuzon smirked a little. “What are you going to tell the library?”

Iroh shook his head, turning the book over in his hands. “I’ll owe them a pound of flesh, I’m sure. They take book loss very seriously.” He met Cuzon’s eyes, slightly magnified behind his gold spectacles. “Was that all?”

Something flickered across Cuzon’s face. He closed his eyes, then said softly: “Fuck.”

Iroh waited. 

“Jashan has no intention of dealing,” Cuzon blurted out. “I don’t know why, not all of it. I think some of it is personal. But word of the UF defeat has gotten out, and the Earth Queen is sending an army from the north. The light mecha, the battle, it was supposed to be a deterrent! A way to force concessions. But it seems that all we’ve done is provoke them.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because… goddammit, because she’s wrong! Jashan is smart, but she’s not United Forces. She’s a politician, she doesn’t know how to fight a war. It’s Raiko all over again. All the light mecha in the world isn’t a match for a career army of earthbenders that know our capabilities. We’ve lost all elements of surprise. But Jashan won’t listen. We’re supposed to discuss everything, she’s only Speaker, but she’s strong-armed half the committee and kept the other half in the dark. We’ve lost before we’ve even started, and she’s treating it like a march to victory.”

“But why?” Iroh asked. This was the part he hadn't been able to figure out.

Cuzon shook his head. “Like I said, I don’t understand all of it. Her son, Dan-yi, he joined up about the same time I did. Not a lot of options here. But he went into the Earth King’s army, as it was then. We were friends, kept in touch a little, but after two years he stopped writing. I always suspected he deserted, but Jashan blamed the army. Says they killed him and wouldn’t tell her. She might just want a go at them, it could be that simple, or something else entirely. But we can’t win a straight fight, we never could.”

“No, you can’t.” Iroh didn’t know how many fighters the rebellion had, but based on the total population it couldn’t be more than several hundred. The Earth Queen would send thousands. You didn’t have to be a general to know those were impossible odds.

“No one has ever cared about SWE, Iroh,” Cuzon said, his expression pained. “No one from outside has ever fought for us. Not even the Avatar, not in hundreds of years. You’re the first. I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. I couldn’t. But I do now.”

Iroh stared at him for a moment, trying to read his face. He had to be sure. “Thank you,” he said. “But you still haven’t told me why you brought me here.”

“Dammit, Iroh, are you going to make me say it? Because I want your fucking peace talks. That’s our best chance; our only chance, really. I don’t know how you saw that weeks ago when no one else did, but you fucking did, and we need you.”

“I can’t forgive what you’ve done,” Iroh said. “You’ll have to answer for it.”

“I didn’t ask for your forgiveness. I asked for your help. Will you give it?”

“How?” Iroh asked. “You say Jashan won’t agree to talks. What about the others? The rest of the committee?”

“I think most can be persuaded. Kjyn, for sure, and a few others. But we’ll never get there with Jashan as Speaker.”

“All right. So we need to force a change. And that might be enough?”

“It might. Easier said than done though.”

“But not impossible.” Iroh stopped, thinking. “Cuzon, if Jashan had no intention of talks, why let us in at all? Why not just stop us at the wall and tell us to go home, or even kill us there? Why the song and dance in the tent?”

Cuzon shook his head. “I don’t know. She must see some advantage to it.”

What advantage would Jashan gain from a meeting with them? It might give her a chance to further persuade her own side to fight, but that seemed risky, especially as they could just as easily be swayed by him and Korra. Besides, she already had enough influence. There was no more mecha left to steal, and she wouldn’t know about anything else Asami had brought with her. And baiting Ano by using them as hostages wouldn’t gain her anything this time, nor would provoking the Fire Nation. 

Unless there was someone else. Someone else who needed convincing. Someone young, and loyal, and whose friends meant everything to her. He should have seen it sooner. After all, he was the same way.

_You won’t be able to beat passcodes out of Iroh, probably not ever, but I’ve been around him long enough to know what makes him tick._

“Cuzon!” Iroh nearly shouted. He jumped up, his long legs almost tangling in the chair as he knocked it over backwards. He grabbed on to the table as another wave of dizziness hit him. “We have to go back. _Now._ ”

“What? What’s happened?”

Iroh steadied himself and leaned heavily on the table, his stomach roiling with fear. “What’s the one thing that might let SWE defeat the Earth Queen’s army? The one thing in the world that could make up those kinds of odds?”

Cuzon had stood as well and was now making his way to the door. “Iroh, I don’t understand,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Korra, Cuzon. She’s going to use us to force the Avatar to fight.”


	85. IROH

Iroh felt a tug on the back of his jacket. “Wait!” Cuzon hissed. But Iroh didn’t want to wait. If Jashan planned to use Korra’s friends as leverage, she’d likely have tried to catch them on the break, to separate them somehow. That meant they were in danger  _ now. _ Even at this moment, someone could be hurting them. Hurting Asami. The idea was like physical pain, a stab in his chest so sharp and cold he almost couldn’t see straight. And behind it, the rage. Spirits have mercy on them if he was right. Iroh wouldn’t.

“Dammit Iroh, listen to me!” Another jerk on his jacket, this one actually pulling him up short. Iroh whirled, catching Cuzon’s wrist in a crushing grip.

“No, you listen to me,” he growled. “If they touch her…”

To his credit, Cuzon stood his ground. “You’re not  _ thinking. _ If we rush in there together, accusing Jashan of foul play, she’ll know we’ve been talking. If you’re right about her plan, what chance will your friends have then? They’re only useful as leverage. You go in hot, they’re dead. So are we.”

Iroh glared at him, then released his wrist. He was right of course. “That’s better,” Cuzon said, rubbing his arm. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go rejoin the group from that direction.” He pointed off to the left. “You are going to get yourself under control, then continue straight through here. I don’t know what we’re going to find, but unless it’s obvious, you’re going to play dumb. Find a way to tell your people what you suspect so everyone is on their guard. And if it is obvious, you’re going to get the Avatar to play along until we have a chance to make a better plan. Got it?”

Iroh ground his teeth, then nodded. Cuzon jogged off to the left without another word, quickly disappearing in the maze of tents and buildings. Iroh made himself stay still. He tried not to think about Asami’s face, the fear and pain he’d seen there when the Triple Threats had taken her, had tied her up, broken her ribs. It was enough to drive him crazy. Instead, he started breathing slowly, trying to calm himself and empty his thoughts. A gradual breath in, a count of ten, and then a relaxed exhale. He had to force it at first, but that was usually the point. Though he’d developed the breathing exercise for his seasickness, he’d found it worked just as well for calming himself down when his emotions got away from him.

He did this for a full minute, just standing and breathing.  _ In for ten. Hold. _ She lay on her back in his bed in Republic City, her skin bathed in shadow, wincing as he gently caressed the wrapping on her ribs.  _ Out for ten. Hold. _ Asami’s face, pale and hot, the snow around her head soaked in blood.  _ In for ten. _ Asami lying unconscious on the floor of a prison cell, only this time it’s Mako tied to Bolin behind her, and he isn’t there, he isn’t there,  _ he isn’t there. _

Iroh exhaled sharply, balling both his fists in frustration.  _ Fuck this. _ He couldn’t wait any longer. He took a quick look at his surroundings, then walked as fast as he could in the direction of the long tent. 


	86. ASAMI

Asami skidded out into the cleared area just beyond the long tent. Korra had pointed left, across the open space and behind the hill with the mine. She glanced quickly in that direction but saw no one. The sandy ground showed no tracks, or at least nothing identifiable. Asami paused for a split second, then ran to the alley where she’d left Iroh with Cuzon, thinking she might have to interrupt him no matter what he was up to. Sometimes Iroh noticed things she didn’t, and he might be able to figure out where the others had gone. Either way, she didn’t like leaving Korra alone, Avatar or no.

The alley was empty. 

For a moment, Asami’s mind went completely blank. Then she took off down the alley where Iroh had been at a dead sprint. She couldn’t lose him, not again. He knew what he was doing, and had almost unbelievable endurance besides, but everyone had their limits. His hands had been so cold. He’d be no match for someone like Cuzon in the state he was in. It wouldn’t even be close. Iroh needed her.

The row of tents and buildings ended in a burst of sunlight. Asami had to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness after the dim light of the camp. In front of her was nothing but brown hills and the open desert. No Iroh. No one at all. But the SWE camp was a maze of narrow alleys and pathways, laid out in a rough spiderweb that fanned out from the mine. Iroh and Cuzon could have taken a turn at any point and she’d have no way of knowing. Asami’s heart sank. She had nothing at all to go on; she’d never find him in here. 

Now what? She could go back to where she started and look for some kind of clue, but unless Iroh had dropped something or there was some sign of a fight she didn’t think it likely. She could simply start yelling for him, there was no question that the sound would carry, but if he was really in trouble he wouldn’t be in much of a position to reply. All that would do was bring the whole camp to alert. And what about Mako, Bolin, and Opal? If they really had gone to get food, they should almost be back by now. Asami at least knew which direction they had gone, and if she ran into them she could confirm they were all right. Then she’d have three more people to help her look for Iroh. After all, Iroh had clearly been up to something; there was no guarantee that his absence wasn’t a part of his plan. And if she didn’t find them, she’d know for sure there was trouble. At least that would be something concrete to react to. All she had now was fear and suspicion.

There was no guarantee that she’d find any of them in the maze of tents and buildings, but she could only pick one direction to go. Her heart screamed at her to find Iroh, that she had to, it was really no choice at all. But how much of that was logic, and how much was love?

 _Trust yourself,_ he’d said. _I do._

Abruptly Asami took off back down the alley, deciding that a surprise attack against her friends was more dangerous. If anything happened to Iroh she’d never forgive herself, but even injured, with his guard up he’d still be the harder target. Besides, he was only one person. If something happened to all three of her other friends, they’d have a much harder time saving them with only herself, Korra, and a very weakened Iroh. She wasn’t even sure they could carry three people out of the camp if it came to it, not that Iroh wouldn’t die trying. On the other hand, if something happened to him, they would still be five strong. It was a cold way of thinking about things, but the right way. She felt that instinctively, and knew Iroh would agree. This wasn’t a time for decisions driven by emotions; this was a time for playing the odds.

Soon Asami was back where she’d started. She made herself slow down then. Her abrupt departure from the meeting tent had probably already attracted too much attention. If she was seen running back and forth all over the camp she would look suspicious, potentially even make things worse. Instead she walked calmly and confidently around the hill, as if she had every reason to be going wherever it was that led. It was the same trick Iroh had said he’d used to infiltrate the Northern Water Tribe camp last year. For whatever reason, apparently acting like you belonged somewhere went a long way towards convincing others you did, too.

The path turned into another alley, this one made up of the steep hill on one side and a row of low stone buildings on the other. It was dark here, the early afternoon sun already blocked by the hillside, and narrow; two people passing would have to turn to get by. This clearly wasn’t a major thoroughfare. Asami’s fear went up a notch. Why would the men and women from SWE keep a major asset, like food and drink, at the end of a long, dark, one-way path? 

Suddenly she heard the unmistakable crunch of boots on gravel. 

“Can you metalbend?” said a woman’s voice. It didn’t sound all that far away, and was probably coming from just ahead where the path curved away to hug the hillside. 

“That’s a negative.” Bolin’s voice. “But who needs metalbending?”

“Lots of people.” That sounded like Opal. “Most of Zaofu are metalbenders. It’s really not that hard, Bolin. I bet Aunt Lin would train you.”

A laugh. Mako. Funny how she could still tell it was him, just from a laugh. “That would something. Private lessons with Chief Beifong. I heard she had Iroh arrested once just for interrupting her lunch walk.”

“And the Avatar?” The woman again.

“Nope,” said Bolin. “Korra’s got like, a C+ in airbending right now. She needs to focus before she can go back to advanced earthbending stuff.”

Asami rounded the hill to see Bolin, Mako, Opal, and Tschuna coming towards her. Each of them carried a tray with either cups or what looked like rolls. She breathed a sigh of relief. Snacks. They really had just gone to get snacks. 

“Asami!” called Bolin. He was the nearest to her, followed by Opal. Tschuna, with a tray of rolls, brought up the rear. “We were looking for you. You get last dibs on this weird katfa stuff because you didn’t help carry it.”

“Ah, Miss Sato,” said Tschuna once she reached the group. Up close, Asami noticed the young woman looked quite a lot like Commander Cuzon, with her long, honey-colored hair and odd, pale green eyes. She was younger than Asami had thought, too, perhaps the same age as she was. But as with Jashan, there was a hardness to her, something cold behind her friendly smile. “I’m glad I found you. I was just getting to know your friends.”

“Sure,” Asami said curtly. She still didn’t trust Tschuna at all, but at least everyone seemed okay. 

“Would you mind holding this for a moment,” Tschuna said, holding out the tray of yellow rolls. “It’s not for long, but I need to do something.” She leaned around Mako, allowing Asami to reach out and grab the tray. “Thanks.” 

Abruptly Tschuna stepped back, pressed her fists together, then pulled her arms apart into a T. The hillside to their left opened up into a long, slanted tunnel that led down into the darkness of the mine. 

“Wha—?” Asami started, then tried to bring up her electric glove. But her hands were full of the tray she’d been handed and she fumbled it, spilling warm rolls all over the dirt. She saw the others try to react as well, but each of them had their hands full and their reaction times were slow. Too slow. Behind them, Tschuna brought her arms sharply back together, but at an angle. The earth underneath Asami and the others tilted up, spilling them all sideways into the hill in a jumble of arms, legs, rolls, and spilled katfa. Asami hit the dirt hard with her shoulder, then started to roll, tumbling down the steep slope into the darkness. Then the square of sunlight above abruptly disappeared. 

Over and over they rolled, hitting and kicking each other as they all flailed in the pitch black. Then Asami hit the ground with a clang. Someone heavy landed on top of her and she grunted in pain. At first all she heard was heavy breathing and a few groans, followed by some scraping. Then there was a flash of fire. 

“Everyone okay?” said Mako. She could see him now, sitting a few feet away from her, his cupped palms full of flickering flames. Behind him she could see walls that seemed too smooth and straight to be natural. They weren’t just underground, but apparently in some kind of small room.

“Ow,” said Bolin. He pushed himself up from where he’d landed next to Asami. She guessed that he’d been the one who’d landed on her. “Opal?”

“Present,” Opal groaned. She sat up and rubbed at the back of her neck. 

“What was that about?” Bolin asked. “Where are we?”

Asami stretched out her hands and felt the floor. It was cold, and almost completely smooth. Metal. “I think we’re in the mine," she said. 

“So how are we going to get out of here?” Mako asked. He stood and held one flame-filled hand up to light the shaft they’d fallen down, but after a few feet it was nothing but darkness. The opening at the top had clearly been closed off.

“I don’t think we are,” she heard herself say. “Mako, the floor is solid metal. It looks like the walls are, too. That woman threw us in a big metal box, and Bolin just told her none of us can metalbend. We’re trapped.”


	87. IROH

Iroh quickly found himself back at the open courtyard. He turned left and walked back to the large tent as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. The first thing he saw was Korra sitting at the end of one of the long tables. Korra. Korra alone. Iroh swallowed hard, willing himself not to panic, knowing that anything he did now might put everyone’s life in danger. Instead he scanned the tent for Asami, for any of the others, but it was immediately clear that they weren’t there. Everyone from SWE was dressed more or less the same in their loose brown tunics. Mako’s dark gray jacket or Opal’s red and yellow air acolyte robes would have stuck out even more than Korra’s light blue water tribe garb did. And Iroh knew he could pick Asami out of a crowd in seconds no matter what she was wearing. She wasn’t here. None of them were.

Behind her he saw Cuzon enter from the other side of the tent, apparently having taken the long way around. He didn’t so much as glance in Iroh’s direction, instead rejoining the group from SWE. 

Iroh clenched his fists and walked calmly up to Korra. He slid onto the bench opposite her.

“Oh thank the spirits, Iroh, I—”

Iroh shook his head sharply and Korra stopped, her face paling. He dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “You need to leave. Now.”

“What’s going on?” Korra muttered, leaning forwards. “Where were you? Where is everyone else? Asami thought—”

“There’s no _time,_ Korra,” Iroh said, cutting her off. “It’s another trap. Go. Now. Walk out if you can. Fight your way out if you can’t. But you have to go.” 

Korra set her jaw, her blue eyes hard. “I’m not leaving without my friends.” 

Iroh huffed out a breath, frustrated. There wasn’t time for her to be stubborn. If he could take the Avatar out of the equation there would be no reason to hold the others, and with Korra in a position to go get outside help it wouldn’t gain Jashan anything to kill them, either. She’d only make enemies; enemies she couldn't afford. “Korra, they know that, that’s the trap. Go! I’ll handle it.”

Korra furrowed her brow. “You don’t look like you can handle anything right now.”

“Please! You have to trust—”

“I don’t have to anything! You’re not the general anymore, Iroh, and I’m not going to run.”

“I’m not—”

“Thank you, all.” Iroh heard Jashan’s voice carry strong and clear through the low hum of discussion. He closed his eyes and breathed out as his heart sank. It was too late. Any window where Korra could have escaped was gone. 

“Whatever happens,” he whispered as softly as he could, “don’t fight them. Whatever she says. Spirits, don’t give them a reason, please. Please.”

 _“Iroh,”_ Korra hissed. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

Iroh didn't answer. He was out of time. Instead, he turned to see Jashan walk to the center of the tent. She bowed slightly to him and Korra, then continued. “We suggest that it’s time to resume our discussion.” 

Iroh looked at Korra, trying as hard as he could to tell her with only his face to follow his lead. Asami could read him like a book, but he didn’t know Korra nearly as well. All he could do now was hope. At this point everything they said would almost certainly be overheard, no matter how quiet it was. He braced himself on the table and stood. Despite a few minutes of rest, it was surprisingly difficult. Iroh shivered, suddenly cold. For the first time he started to wonder if there might be more going on than simple exhaustion. He tightened his grip on the metal table for a moment to steady himself, then straightened. It wasn’t important now. With Cuzon more or less on his side, the image he had to project now was strength.

“Very well,” he said. 

Korra threw him a questioning look, then stood as well. She walked around the end of the table to stand shoulder to shoulder with Iroh. “Where are our friends, Speaker Jashan?” she asked. Of course Korra would take the direct approach. But he supposed it had to be asked. It would look too odd if it wasn’t. 

Jashan smiled at them, the smile of a Pai Sho player who has just seen the final move. “As we said before the break,” she said, “circumstances have changed. I hope that both Speaker Korra and Speaker Iroh and their respective parties will appreciate the need for us to change tactics as well.”

“What do you mean?” Korra asked. 

“We in SWE also desire peace. That’s what we fight for, what we’ve always fought for; peace for our people.”

“That is good to hear, Speaker Jashan,” Iroh said, not believing it for a second. Or at least not believing that peace meant the same thing to Jashan as it did to him. “The Fire Nation looks forward to assisting in this process as a neutral party.”

“You didn’t answer me,” snapped Korra. Patience had never been her strength. 

“Yet if we remain part of the Earth Kingdom,” Jashan said loudly, ignoring Korra’s outburst, “there will never be peace. And they will not let us go. Even now, despite our victory over the United Forces, the Earth Queen does not send a delegation. Instead, she is sending an army against us. Our choices are fight, or live forever in slavery.”

“No,” Iroh said firmly. He had to try. “There is still a third way, Speaker Jashan. Let us help you. The Fire Nation can bring the Earth Kingdom to the table, as can the Avatar. I know Queen Hou-ting. She can be reasonable.”

“We have every intention of having the Avatar help us,” Jashan said. She turned to face Korra. “Which is why, Speaker Korra, to answer your question, we sought fit to detain the other members of your party.” Iroh heard Korra gasp. “I understand they are largely unharmed,” she continued, “and it is, of course, temporary. Contingent on your cooperation and assistance in defeating the Earth Kingdom’s army that is even now on its way to SWE.” 

_Largely unharmed. Largely._ Iroh ground his teeth, then moved his hands at the small of his back in what he hoped looked like parade rest instead of hiding the faint curls of smoke rising from his fingertips. Cuzon was right. If he lost control now, he’d as good as kill them. Especially since he still wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to firebend at all.

Jashan turned slowly, now clearly addressing everyone in the tent. “With the new mecha, every man and woman in Southwest Earth Kingdom is now a bender. And with the Avatar by our side, we _will_ prevail. We _will_ be free.”

“I’m not fighting the Earth Kingdom!” Korra shouted. “I’m the Avatar, my job is to maintain balance. There’s been enough fighting already. I’m not going to help start a war.”

“Even if it means the deaths of the people you love?” Jashan said. “The war has already begun, Avatar Korra. All we are asking is that you help us end it.”

 _Love,_ Iroh thought suddenly. That’s what it came down to, wasn’t it? The people Korra loved. And the people that Iroh loved. He needed to get them out, wherever they were. He needed to get _her_ out. When it came down to it, that was all that mattered.

And the only way to do that was to put someone else in her place. Someone Korra loved even more than her friends.

The traitor officers from the United Forces, like Lt. Tschuna, hadn’t known Iroh at all prior to their journey. And even Cuzon, who did, had been surprised to learn that he and Asami were engaged. It was a gamble, but Iroh doubted that he’d told anyone after he and Iroh had puzzled out Hiroshi Sato’s true motivations for wanting Iroh dead. Which meant that, though Jashan obviously knew about the hit, it was very likely that she, like Cuzon, assumed it had to do with Iroh’s role in defeating the Equalists. 

No one here was from Republic City. Nobody read Page Six.

“You’re wrong,” Iroh said, shaking his head. Beside him Korra stood still, for the first time seemingly lost for words. “It won’t work. But I have a counter-proposal that will.”

Jashan glared at him. She did not seem interested in counter-proposals. 

Iroh turned to face Korra. He reached up with one hand and slowly caressed her face. Her eyes widened in surprise, for a moment seemingly too bewildered to react.

 _Please trust me,_ he mouthed. Iroh leaned down, slipping his hand behind her head as he brought his other up to press against the small of her back. Then he pulled Korra to him, bringing her shocked face up to his. 

And right there, in front of everybody, Iroh kissed her.


	88. ASAMI

Bolin groaned. “Nope. Metalbending not happening.” He sat back down in a huff, then wiped the sweat from his brow. “What’s plan, uh, D?” 

Asami sighed. It had been worth a try. At this point, anything was worth a try. She leaned back and studied the pile in the center of the room in the flickering firelight. They didn’t have a whole lot left to work with. 

A loud banging sounded from up the shaft they had fallen down. “Hey!” Opal’s voice echoed back “Hey, is anyone out there? Let us out!” More banging. A minute later Opal slid back into the room on a cushion of whirling air. “Sealed tight,” she said, handing Asami back the small portable electric light she’d had in her pocket. “It’s solid metal, too, all the way up.”

“That’s it, Mako,” Asami said. “I don’t think we can risk any more fire. If we’re sealed in tight, we need to start watching our air. Besides, it’s getting hot.” She put her portable light in the center of the room and stood it on its end, doing her best to mimic a lantern. It wasn’t much light, but it would have to do.

Mako huffed in frustration, then let the blue white fire fade from his fingertips. “It wasn’t doing much anyway,” he said. He walked back from the far wall and sat down next to Bolin, shoulders slumped in defeat. Asami thought he looked tired. Nearly twenty minutes of the hottest flame Mako could manage hadn’t done more than turn a fist-sized spot on the wall an ugly, mottled gray while slowly making the metal walls of their prison uncomfortably warm. Because that’s undoubtedly what it was: a prison. She had no idea if the room they were in had been there before and Tschuna had only lured them to the opening, or if the metalbender had created it all at once, but either way the result was the same. Unless you could bend nearly pure copper, there was no way in or out.

Discovering that their metal prison was made of copper had been a disappointment. The melting point of copper was nearly twice that of aluminum—that’s one reason most mecha used it in wiring. Mako was a powerful firebender, but the only time Asami had seen a firebender melt metal was when Iroh had been working with aluminum. If that had taken nearly all of his power and skill, there was little chance that Mako could use his bending to cut through solid copper plate. That hadn’t stopped him from trying, but it was clear now that they weren’t melting their way out. 

“And you’re sure your glove can’t blast a hole in the wall?” Mako asked.

Asami shook her head firmly. “We can’t risk it. Copper is one of the most conductive materials on earth. Anything I try with my glove that’s anywhere near hot enough to melt metal would give everyone in here a fatal shock, no matter where you were standing.”

“Let’s not do that,” Bolin said quickly. He looked nervously at the walls. “I am firmly anti- fatal shock.” 

“So now what?” Opal asked. She settled down on Bolin’s other side, then leaned her back against him. “Does anyone _have_ a plan D?”

Asami shook her head. “Not yet.” She gestured to the pile of their possessions. “Not unless one of you can make anything else out of this.” While the others had tried various means of escape, Asami had carefully inventoried everything they had on them. She’d had everyone empty their pockets into the middle of the room in hopes of coming up with some combination of tools that would point to a way out. But there wasn’t much. Being the only non-bender, Asami herself was the only one who had brought any kind of serious gear. Unfortunately, almost all of it was designed to generate electricity, which was the exact opposite of what you wanted when you were sitting in a highly conductive box. Besides her Equalist glove, two smackers, and four electric bombs, all they had was her portable light and a lot of half-crushed rolls. They didn’t even have a knife, the closest thing being the keys to Mako’s apartment.

Bolin reached over and took a flattened roll from the pile. “At least we won’t starve,” he said, stuffing the roll in his mouth. 

“Right,” said Mako. “A real comfort knowing we’ll still have plenty of rolls when we run out of air.”

Bolin swallowed. “I don’t get why airbending won’t help,” he said, turning to Opal. “It’s air.”

She shook her head. “Airbending doesn’t create air any more than earthbending creates earth. I just channel it. I can make sure we have a steady breeze, but that’s about it.”

“We still have two big things going for us,” Asami said. Everyone looked at her. 

“All right!” Bolin grinned, pumping his fist in the air. Then he looked at her, his face slightly puzzled. “Uh… what are they?”

“First, Tschuna got the jump on us and threw us down here. She’s a super powerful earthbender, right? She could have crushed us easily. But she didn’t. We’re in a box, just like Iroh was in a box. Boxes seem to be how they hold prisoners. So, the fact that we’re still alive probably means that they want us that way, at least for now.”

“I don’t seem to recall that working out for Iroh,” Mako said glumly. Asami glared at him. Mako really was the worst kind of pessimist sometimes.

“And the other one?” Opal asked. “The thing we have going for us?” 

“Iroh, Korra, Varrick, and Zhu Li are still out there.” 

Mako looked at her. “What if they’re not?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they got the jump on us, right? And there were four of us together. But you said Iroh wasn’t where you left him, which means Korra was alone. And who knows where Varrick and Zhu Li are. This might not be the only room in here, or in the camp. They could be picking us off one by one.”

Asami hadn’t thought of that. A cold spike of fear settled in her chest. Korra might be all right, but if she was alone and surprised? And Iroh had seemed so tired. He’d be on his guard, but he couldn’t fight twenty people, or probably even one. 

_Think, Asami,_ she said to herself. _There has got to be something. What are you missing?_ Slowly, carefully, she went over the problem again. _We’re deep underground in a mine. We’re surrounded by thick, ultra-conductive metal. We have no real supplies, no tools that aren’t electric. We have an airbender, a firebender, and an earthbender. We have rolls._

Asami shook her head. Nothing. She tried again. _We’re deep underground in a mine. We’re surrounded by thick_ —

She heard a shout near the top of the shaft they’d fallen down. Opal jumped up. “Here!” she screamed, cupping her hands to her mouth. She rushed to the opening. “Here! We’re down here!” Something clanged loudly, followed by more shouts. Then a shaft of light pierced the darkness. It flickered, followed by a series of thumps, bangs, shouts, crashes, and curses. The light went out.

Opal stepped aside as a body tumbled into the room, followed quickly by another. They landed in the room in a heap, one limb or another sending the portable electric light flying. It hit the far wall with a clang and went out. 

“Nobody move!” Asami shouted. She crawled towards where the light had been, groping along the floor with her hands. She felt someone’s knee, probably Mako, and pushed past him to the far wall. 

Someone groaned. “Am I dead? Is this hell?” 

Asami’s right hand brushed something hard. She reached forwards and her fingers closed around the light. She thumbed the on switch and instantly bright white light illuminated the dull copper wall. Asami let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. It wasn’t broken. 

She brought the light up and turned around to shine it at the newcomers, who were still tangled together in the middle of the floor. Two blue and two gray-green eyes stared back at her. 

“I was right,” said Varrick. “Zhu Li, this is definitely hell.”

But Asami was already looking past them. Past them to the large metal tube that was now resting against the far wall by Varrick’s feet.

 _We have an airbender, a firebender, and an earthbender,_ Asami thought. _We have rolls. And we have a truly enormous electromagnet._

Asami smiled. “Varrick,” she said. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really glad to see you.”


	89. IROH

It had been a long time since Iroh had kissed someone who didn’t want to be kissed. He’d forgotten how terrible it felt. Not just physically, either. All of it. As his lips slid over Korra’s she stiffened, giving him nothing. He held her fast and kept going, not letting her pull away, but it was sloppy and cold, like kissing a tire in the rain. And with it came all the old feelings; shame, rejection, defeat. It was crazy, he didn’t want Korra any more than she wanted him, but it felt too much like those other times, the bad times, the times when he’d looked at a lifetime of cold, loveless kisses and accepted that future with the crushing numbness of a man on a scaffold. 

Iroh shoved his feelings aside, trying to focus. He hadn’t been that person in years. He wouldn’t ever be again. He’d promised himself, and he never made promises lightly. Instead he pulled away from Korra, trying not to see the confusion and fear on her bright red face. 

“What are you doing?” she gasped. “Iroh—”

“We have to tell them, Korra,” Iroh said, making sure his voice carried. “It’s time.” 

Before Korra could reply he turned to Jashan. She was staring at him, clearly surprised, but it was nothing compared to the look he was getting from Cuzon. He couldn’t have been more shocked than if Iroh had sprouted feathers. 

“It won’t work, Speaker Jashan, because you’ve misunderstood. I love Korra, more than anything, and she me. I’d die for her. But I don’t think it will come to that.”

Korra sucked in a breath. “Iroh, what are—” Iroh stamped down hard on her foot.

“We’ve kept it secret until now,” he continued, “but I won’t let you start a world war if you don’t have to. I’m all of the leverage you need. Take me instead. Let the others go.” 

Jashan narrowed her eyes. “And why wouldn’t we simply hold you all for safekeeping?”

“You can’t,” said Iroh. 

Jashan frowned. “You’re outnumbered ten to one.”

“Korra is the Avatar. I’m a world-class firebender." He tactfully left out the fact that, at the moment, he was having trouble standing up. "You surprised me once, as I’m sure you surprised our friends. But you can’t take me by force, not if we’re together. As much as it pains me to say it, we are far more important to each other than any of our friends. If it comes down to a choice, we’ll fight our way out, and we’ll win. But you’re not going to fight us.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not stupid.” Jashan bristled at that, clearly not liking the implication that she’d missed something. “The young airbender, Opal, is a Beifong,” Iroh said. He scanned the room, making it clear that he was addressing everyone and not just Jashan. “The last thing you need is the Zaofu guard joining the Earth Queen, let alone the entire Air Nation. Detective Mako is Republic City police. You hold them, threaten them, kill them, and you’ll have every Beifong, and every metalbender outside SWE, joining the ranks of your enemy. The other woman, Asami Sato, is Hiroshi Sato’s only child. You already know that he can reach you, even from prison, and you don’t want him as an enemy. And while Bolin may not be as well-connected, he’s a mover star. He was able to mobilize significant support for the Southern Water Tribe during the civil war. You dealt President Raiko a serious blow; perhaps enough to keep the United Republic on the sidelines. But if popular opinion pushes him to intervene on Bolin’s behalf, I don’t doubt for a second that he’ll do it. Neither should you.”

“And the Fire Nation?” Jashan asked. “What keeps the Firelord out of this if we take you instead?”

“I do,” Iroh said. “The Fire Nation wants peace. That hasn’t changed. I can convince the Firelord that this is the fastest way to get there. A decisive victory under the banner of the Avatar. We are not friends of the Earth Kingdom over any other. We are neutral. My mother will respect my opinion; she would not have allowed me to Speak for her otherwise. And the Fire Nation has a long tradition of trusting the Avatar. The Firelord need never know the true reasons for our alliance.”

Jashan looked at him hard, as if thinking. Thank the spirits, at least she was considering it. Iroh decided to press his luck. It was all or nothing now. Korra opened her mouth and Iroh ground his foot into hers. She closed it with a snap.

“Let them go, work with Korra and I, and you have a chance,” he said. “I’ll come without a fight, and if the Avatar still refuses to help you, use me to make her by whatever means you see fit. I can help you as well. You can’t deny that I have skills you can use. I offer them to you freely. I have years of experience commanding an army. I trained the entire nonbender fleet on the new mecha. I am one of the world’s most skilled firebenders. Or put me on the front lines, I don’t care, as long as you swear on your honor to let Korra go free and unharmed when it’s over. As for the others, you don’t need them. They are more trouble than they are worth. Take me, and it simplifies your problem considerably. The Avatar and I will cooperate. Make Korra and I fight you, harm our friends in the process, and it’s SWE against the world.”

“And what, Speaker Iroh, could possibly be in it for you? You could, as you say, fight your way out, your Avatar at your side. Why offer this to us, unless it is a trick?”

“Because I am but one among many,” Iroh said clearly. It was another line Cuzon had taught him during his education about SWE. “I came here to offer my assistance to SWE, not for myself, but for the greater good. I offer it still. If you have rejected my proposal for peace talks, victory over the Earth Kingdom, with the blessing of the Fire Nation and the support of the Avatar, is the next most likely thing to bring peace and stability to the world. Involving Zaofu, the Air Nation, and the United Republic by threatening my friends is not. And there are more of them. If what you wish to accomplish can be done so by threatening one, harming one, instead of four, that is also good.” Iroh inclined his head to the group. “As a guest in your land, I do as I am able. And I am able to do this.”

“No, Iroh,” Korra said beside him. Iroh cursed to himself. He’d hoped he’d convinced her to play along. “I won’t let you.” 

Iroh turned to look at her. Korra stared up at him, her big blue eyes filled with worry and anger. “Yes, you will,” Iroh said quietly. He put a hand on her arm, trying to think about how he would comfort Asami if she were upset. Her arm went rigid under his touch. “Korra, you have to.”

“No, I—”

“Is what I said untrue? About Zaofu, Hiroshi Sato, any of it?” Korra didn’t answer. She knew he was right. That part hadn’t been a lie. “I trust the Avatar,” he said firmly. “I trust her to do the right thing for the world.”

“Very well,” Jashan said from the center of the room. Iroh breathed out. “Your proposal is acceptable. Speaker Iroh, you will come with us. Avatar Korra, you will remain here and work with us to plan our defense. Your lover will be treated as our guest as long as you cooperate fully in our efforts to secure our independence, though”—she gave Cuzon the briefest glance—“I hope you understand if this time we place him under guard. We trust that we do not need to tell you how he will be treated if you do not give us your full support, as you will surely not let it come to that. Upon our victory, you will both be released.”

“And our friends?” Iroh asked. “You will release them immediately.”

“Provided they agree to leave SWE territory, yes. If they return to their own lands, we need not bother one another further.” Iroh paused at that. He wasn’t sure what the likelihood was that Asami or Bolin or any of them would leave him and Korra, but it was probably very low. But this was the only plan he had. He’d have to take it one step at a time. 

“Agreed,” Iroh said. “We will need proof of their release, of course.”

“Of course,” Jashan said with a slight bow. “We’ll take you to them now.”

“Wait,” Iroh said. He glanced at Korra. “May I have a moment with Korra. Just to… to say goodbye, for the time being.”

“All right. But keep it brief. The Queen’s army will be here in three days, and time is short.”

Iroh turned back to Korra and stopped, surprised. She no longer looked worried. She looked livid. He put one hand on her back and steered her out into the courtyard, somewhat taken aback that she let him. He was careful to stay within easy line of sight, but tried to move to a distance where a whispered conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

As soon as he stopped, Korra whirled on him. Her face was rigid with anger. _“You asshole,”_ she spat, thankfully keeping her voice low. 

“I didn’t like it either,” Iroh growled. “It was the best I could come up with.”

“You couldn’t have warned me? You were supposed to _help_ with diplomacy, Iroh! What the fuck is this we’ve got instead? I’m going from having friends hostage to make me fight the Earth Kingdom to having friends hostage to make me fight the Earth Kingdom, plus now I have to tell my best friend I’ve kissed her boyfriend. Again.”

“I ran out of time to explain, Korra. You spent all the time we had arguing with me.”

 _“You_ spent all the time telling me what to do instead of what was happening.”

Iroh sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She was probably right about that last one. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now.”

“It does matter, Iroh. For all you’re always telling people to trust you, you don’t have a hell of a lot of trust yourself. Not every plan ever has to involve you taking the most risk. We’re a _team,_ Iroh. And it’s Team Avatar, not Team It-Was-The-Best-I-Could-Come-Up-With-Iroh, either. You need to start fucking acting like it.”

“I do trust you, Korra. I meant what I said. I trust the Avatar to do the right thing for the world. I always have.”

“I’m not fighting the Earth Kingdom, Iroh,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not what the Avatar does. I won’t shy away from a fight, but I won’t start one, either. SWE is the aggressor here, even if they’re outnumbered. Think of the precedent it would set.”

“I know.”

“So what then? Did you have another fancy insane plan? And if it involves kissing me again I’ll break your arm.” Korra smiled slightly at the joke, but it was thin. He could tell she was scared.

“You were never supposed to fight the Earth Kingdom,” Iroh said seriously. Acting on impulse, he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her in a hug that was completely genuine. “Make sure Asami still has my letter,” he whispered in her ear. "Make sure, and get them out." Then he released her and, without looking back, made his way towards the group from SWE.


	90. OPAL

When Opal was eight she caught hog monkey fever. For two weeks she sweated and shook, too ill to even leave her bed. Her fever got so high that the waterbender healers packed her forehead and neck in ice. At the very worst of it she was delirious, fading in and out of reality in a blur of fantastical dreams and terrible nightmares. At one point her twin brothers, Wei and Wing, had come to visit her in her sickbed. Opal had stared at them in horror as they multiplied, becoming first four brothers, then eight, then 16, until her entire bedroom had been crammed with nothing but identical Wings and Weis to the point that she couldn’t remember at all how many brothers she had started with. She’d cried then, as much from frustration and confusion as fear.

That was as close as Opal could get to describing the feeling she’d had most of the time since she’d left Republic City. Every time she thought she understood what was going on and why, reality would somehow shift, throwing her into a completely different, often scary and dangerous, situation. For one, she’d quickly realized that, though she really liked Bolin, she barely knew his brother and friends. Though everyone had been nice to her, it was really clear that they all went way back. Even the insane inventor guy seemed to know everybody. Opal felt like she was constantly playing GuessMeNot with the kind of old married couple whom one had but to shout, “that thing that one time!” for the other to yell, “wooly-pig sandwich!” before they both began to laugh hysterically. Opal, standing quietly next to Bolin, never got the joke. 

For another, she was finding that using her new bending ability for good was a lot different from how she’d imagined it. The first time she’d used airbending she’d actually squealed in excitement. A nesting iguana parrot had dive-bombed her on a walk and she’d somehow just… blown it away. Opal had known immediately, instinctively what was happening, even if she didn’t know how it could be possible. Airbending wasn’t just something you did, it was something you felt, a kind of _opening_ all throughout the body that allowed air to flow not just around the bender, but through them. There was no mistaking it, and she’d been elated. Three of her four brothers were earthbenders, after all, as of course was her mother and a large portion of the city of Zaofu. Though Opal had accepted that she’d never be a bender herself, a deep part of her had always been mildly jealous.

But when she’d imagined life as a bender, and an airbender no less, she’d pictured something a lot more like what her mother did. Airbending was fundamentally defensive; designed to evade, to disarm. So Opal had thought of stepping into a similar role, defending a (relatively peaceful) city against (largely imaginary) invaders, providing wise and steady leadership to a grateful population of (mostly lovable, law-abiding) citizens. Or perhaps more like what she’d seen in the movers, fearlessly swooping in at the nick of time to save old women from muggings on the streets of Republic City, or stepping forwards to twist threatening spirit vines into thick, harmless knots. 

Opal had _not_ pictured flying halfway around the world to the actual middle of nowhere to rescue a member of the Fire Nation royal family from the brink of what had looked like a very bloody, self-inflicted death. She had also not pictured charging into battle with half the United Forces, only to be thoroughly thrashed in about five minutes while their ships were either stolen or set on fire. And she most certainly hadn’t pictured being thrown down a dark mineshaft with her new boyfriend, his moody brother, moody brother’s very intense ex-girlfriend, a rich inventor who seemed like he’d huffed too many of his own chemicals and who was apparently here under duress, and that inventor’s odd, silent assistant. Oh, and an armload of dinner rolls.

Yet here she was. Opal wished she could believe it was just hog monkey fever.

She leaned her back against Bolin’s side. One of the best things about Bolin was how solid he was. In a world that felt like a fever dream, Bolin was always Bolin; tough and immovable, yet soft, like a favorite overstuffed chair. More and more lately she found herself making excuses to touch him. Some of it was attraction, of course. Bolin was that rare combination of cute and manly, with big green eyes, an adorable button nose, and an absolutely ripped physique that was, well, very nice to touch. But a lot of it was simply reassurance. If Bolin was still here, still real, then everything was going to be okay no matter how crazy things seemed. Wasn’t it?

Bolin pressed back against her, and Opal wondered if perhaps Bolin might need to feel her there in the semi-darkness as much as she did him. After all, they were the only ones who hadn’t been given anything to do. All they could do was sit here and wait.

“Let me see that,” Asami said to Varrick, pointing to the big box that had been on the bottom of the huge tube the inventor had brought. Opal wasn’t quite sure why she still thought of Asami primarily as Mako’s ex, rather than Bolin’s friend or just another member of Team Avatar. She and Mako had broken up long before Opal had come on the scene, and was very obviously in love with that nice other man besides. Perhaps it was because that’s how Bolin had first described her? Though of course, he’d been pretending to be Mako at that point, and had actually called Asami Bolin’s ex, Bolin being the name he’d started calling Mako when she’d asked about his family. It was all terribly confusing. Which, now that she thought of it, might say more about Bolin than Opal. 

“Looking to attach yourself to the wall, are you?” Varrick asked.

“Varrick, you have two choices. Die in here or help me.” Asami seemed to like to threaten Varrick with death. It was another one of those things that Opal didn’t quite get. Clearly those two had a history.

“Zhu Li, are you sure this isn’t hell?” 

“You’re still alive, sir.”

Meanwhile, to her left, Mako toasted the rolls. He’d flattened them all slightly and laid them out in a single layer on a clear patch of flooring facing away from the group. Soft orange fire spread out from his hands. His face was screwed up in concentration. Bolin had told her at some point that his brother had never been great at small flames, and Asami had been adamant that he dry out the rolls but not burn them. She hadn’t said why.

Opal reached for Bolin’s hand. He squeezed it once, then looked at her and smiled his adorable smile. She wasn’t quite ready to say she loved him yet, but when Bolin smiled like that it was hard not to melt. It was such an… inclusive smile, she supposed. One that said that, even if Bolin had no idea what was going on either, at least they were in this together. Growing up with only older brothers and her stone-faced adopted sister, Opal had fallen pretty hard for someone open and caring who obviously wanted her around. She snuggled a bit closer into his side and he wrapped an arm around her.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Opal whispered. 

“Not a clue,” said Bolin. 

“Arc furnace,” Asami said. It was hard not to be overheard in such close quarters. “Or part of one, anyway.” She’d managed to use Mako’s keys to pry open the top of the box Varrick had handed her and was slowly extracting what looked like four cans from inside. “Big batteries like these have carbon electrode cores. Hook those babies up to the copper tubing we used on the big magnet, give it enough juice, and you can use the electrical arc between to melt about any metal.”

“But Asami,” Opal said slowly, “we don’t have any good juice.” She didn’t want to look dumb, but it seemed like an obvious problem. 

“I believe she means electricity,” Varrick said, not looking up from where he and Zhu Li were steadily unwrapping copper coils from the big tube.

“I know that!” It came out a little harsher than Opal had meant it, but she wasn’t stupid, even if sometimes hanging out with Asami made her feel that way. “But Asami said that using any electricity in here would shock us to death. So I guess what I mean is, do we have any _safe_ juice?”

“No safe juice,” Asami said. She pulled a long, coal black cylinder out of the middle of the metal can. “That’s why we need you. And the rolls. Oh, and Varrick, I’ll need your coat.”

“Sorry, it’s my thinking coat,” Varrick said blithely. “I’m using it.”

“You’re from the South Pole, Varrick. We’re in the desert, and it’s about to get hot in here. Hand it over. I’m not busting us out of here naked.” 

Mako whipped his head around as Varrick and Zhu Li both stared at her. “Uh, Asami?” Bolin asked. Opal looked over to see him blushing furiously. “What, um, exactly is your escape idea? Because Iroh is a really good friend of mine and I am a _teensy_ bit uncomfortable with any plan that involves you and the word naked and also me because I like Iroh and I also like being alive.”

“Honestly, that’s where your brain went?” Asami said, narrowing her eyes. She pulled out a second long black cylinder, then set the box down. “I’m trying to get us out and you’re worried about my fiancée being mad? Iroh doesn’t own me, and I like to think he’d prefer me naked and out of this prison to clothed and otherwise no matter who was around.”

“Angry Iroh is scary Iroh,” Bolin said in a small voice. “He told me once about all these dark spirits and how he was super pissed and—”

“Trust me, Bolin. He’ll be a lot more angry if we stay stuck down here because you all were a bunch of prudes.”

***

In the end it turned out that Asami wasn’t naked, _per se._ She’d told everyone to close their eyes and had stripped out of the gray and purple outfit she’d been wearing, replacing it with Varrick’s long blue coat. She had underwear on, so it wasn’t even a big deal. Opal knew this because she’d peeked through her fingers. Not to see Asami, who was predictably and unfairly as gorgeous without clothes on as she was with them on, but to check if Bolin was also peeking. He wasn’t, and neither was Varrick, but to her surprise Mako was. She could just see the glint of his dark gold eyes through his fingers. It probably wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before given their history, but still. From what Bolin had said, Mako had broken up with her and not the other way around, so if he wanted to torture himself by taking a peek at what he’d passed on, that was his problem. Opal liked Bolin’s brother, but didn’t have a whole lot of sympathy in this area. She’d been in Asami’s position a few too many times herself.

“All right,” Asami said. “I think that’s everything.” She smoothed down the light blue coat, which came down to the middle of her calves in the back but was considerably shorter in the front. Her long, toned legs were very visible in the dim light. Opal liked the way she looked just fine, and from what it had been like actually sharing a room on the United Forces ship it seemed Bolin was definitely a fan as well, but some things weren’t entirely fair all the same. 

Asami reached down and picked up her outfit, balled it up, and stuffed under one arm. Then she grabbed the two thin black cylinders, which she’d attached to individual lengths of the copper wrapping Varrick and Zhu Li had managed to free from the big tube, and turned to Mako. "Ready?" 

“Asami, are you sure about this?” said Mako. 

“No. Do you have a better idea?”

Mako said nothing. Instead he stripped off his own jacket, then piled the lightly toasted rolls inside. He then gathered it up, making a kind of roll-filled pillow.

“Opal, Mako and I will need your help getting up there first. Once we’re at the top of the shaft I think we can balance alright and you can focus on everyone here. Okay?”

Opal nodded. Finally, something she understood. She might not know anything about building arc furnaces or why using one required both Asami’s clothing and a pile of dry rolls, but she could absolutely airbend two people up to the top of the blocked shaft. She’d done it herself not that long ago. 

“But what about the bad juice?” Bolin asked. “I’m still really anti- fatal shock, so can we not do that part? The last time I got shocked with you it felt pretty bad. Which is a weird thing to say, the last time, like this is a thing that we somehow keep doing?”

For the first time the confidence on Asami’s face seemed to waver. “We’ll do the best we can,” she said. “Once Opal gets Mako and I up there she’ll use her airbending to float everyone up off the floor. Keep your arms in, don’t touch anything. It should only be for a minute. Air is a poor conductor, and if you’re more than a few inches off the floor you’ll be okay.” She bit her lower lip slightly. “I think.”

“And you?” Opal asked. “I can’t airbend in two places at once.”

“Probably dead,” said Varrick. Zhu Li kicked his foot. “What?” he said, eyes wide, throwing his hands up in mock defense. “Her plan is to have Mako there shoot lightning at her while standing inside a big metal container. If that’s not insta-death, I’m a flying fishopotamus.”

“Wait, _that’s_ what you want me to do?” Mako yelped. “You didn’t tell me that part!”

Asami sighed heavily. “Because I knew that’s how you’d react. Yes. You’re the juice, Mako. An arc furnace requires a large amount of AC power. Batteries, which is what we have, are DC. Even if we had enough to power what we need, and we don’t, it wouldn’t work without a rectifier. Natural lightning isn’t exactly AC, but long bursts of lightning bending behave enough like it for what we need. I think.” She looked inquiringly at Mako. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you lightning bend. I assume you can keep it up for a minute? I actually haven’t studied it, just watched Iroh a bit.”

 _“You haven’t studied it?”_ Mako looked stunned. “No. No way, Asami. I’m not doing this.”

Her brows knit together. It made her look a bit scary. “Mako, we’re out of ideas. We’re going up there, you’re going to kneel on that pile of dry rolls you just made so you don’t shock yourself to death, and then you’re going to shoot some lightning into the ends of these tubes.” Asami hefted the bundle of clothing under her arm. “After Bolin and I walked into that electric fence I coated these suits in teflon. It won’t totally block a current, but it helps. I’ll hold out as long as I can and see if I can melt whatever is blocking the entrance. If I pass out, stop.”

“‘If I pass out, stop’ is not a good plan,” Mako said, shaking his head. 

Asami’s face softened. “Mako, it’s the only plan. It’s not just about us, either. Korra and Iroh, they’re alone out there. Who knows what’s happening, or might happen. I can’t believe they didn’t separate us for a reason. From what you said, nobody asked Korra to help carry snacks. They wanted her alone. Maybe Iroh, too, I don’t know. There’s no way that’s good.”

At the mention of Korra’s name, Mako’s face hardened. For someone who’d been watching Asami strip not five minutes ago, Opal thought it a little odd. Mako had, after all, broken up with the Avatar as well. It seemed like Bolin’s brother had a lot of baggage. She turned a little and wrapped her arm around Bolin’s shoulders to give him a squeeze. When you find a good one, best hold on tight. 

“Fine,” Mako said. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but you’re right. We have to help Korra. And Iroh told me this morning he might not even be able to firebend.”

“He said that?” Asami said sharply.

“Yeah. Something about being too tired.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, I’ve never had that, but I’ve also never been bled to within an inch of my life, either.” 

“The sword,” Asami grumbled. “Spirits, I’m gonna kill him. Of all the _stubborn…”_

“So, am I sending you up?” Opal said. If they were going to do this, she’d just as soon get it over with so she could stop being terrified. Besides, she liked Korra and Iroh both. If they really were in trouble, calling them stubborn down here wouldn’t do much.

Asami broke off and looked at her, her face set with determination. “Yes. Send us up.”


	91. ASAMI

Everything hurt, and at the same time, nothing did. It was the oddest feeling. It was like she was watching her own pain from outside her body, commenting on it from afar like the announcer at a pro-bending match. All around her the world buzzed, a steady thrum of sound that matched the distant tingling, crackling flames underneath her skin. 

“Asami!” A familiar voice, urgent and yet far away. _Asami,_ she thought distractedly. _I’m Asami, Asami is me._ For some reason that struck her as funny and she laughed, but it came out as a feeble cough. Her hands were a dull fire. _Finally a firebender,_ she thought, giggling in a way that sounded more like a wheeze _._ Pressure now on her chest, her face. Then Iroh was kissing her, and she knew instinctively what an Iroh was, the warm soft weight that made things okay. His lips were hot against her own, but then suddenly it was all wrong, _he_ was wrong, and she realized it wasn’t an Iroh at all but something else entirely. Asami sputtered, trying to push the hot coffee air out of her mouth. 

“What are you doing?!” Another voice.

“I don’t know! We all got trained on this stuff but I can’t remember!”

“Mako, she’s not even unconscious!”

“She’s obviously not okay, either!” 

“Calm down, both of you. Move over.” Cool, precise fingers against neck. “Miss Sato,” said a woman’s voice, “open your eyes.”

Asami did so. It was so easy, she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. Two gray green eyes stared back at her, magnified through thick round glasses. 

“She’s fine.” A long pause. “Mostly.”

The rest of the world came slowly into focus. Asami lay on her back in the shade next to a dry brown hill. High above her the sky was a deep, cloudless blue. The gray eyes and glasses sat in the pointed face of a dark haired young woman who was looking down at her with an expression of bland unconcern. 

“Ow,” Asami said. Then, “Iroh?” That was what she generally wanted after “ow.” Irohs had big gentle hands that helped with ow. 

“You sure she’s okay? Crazy talk is coming out of her mouth right now. I have never met anyone who looks less like Iroh than Zhu Li.”

The young woman’s face was replaced with that of an even younger man with spiky brown hair and deep honey eyes. “Asami, talk to me. Do you know who I am?”

“Asshole,” she breathed.

“Aaaaaaand now she’s fine.” She recognized the other voice now. Bolin. And Mako, and Zhu Li Moon. 

“You got burned pretty good,” Mako said. “Don’t use your hands.”

“Did you just kiss me?”

“Of course not!” A faint flush crept up his neck. “CPR. It’s part of the basic trauma care they teach all the city police. You kind of... seized up, and you weren’t answering me, and I thought it couldn’t hurt. It’s what they told us to do for shock.”

“Better be,” Asami grumbled. Everything still felt odd and a little fuzzy, and that weird buzzing was still in her ears, but at least she knew who everyone was now and more or less where she was. “So what happened?” 

“Unbelievably, your idea mostly worked,” Mako said. He looked behind him to where a large flap had been neatly cut in what appeared to be a solid metal plate set into the hill. “I hit the ends of those tubes with lightning, like I used to do sometimes at the power plant, and they made some kind of giant spark between the things you were holding.”

As Mako talked Asami tried to push herself up. An unbelievable pain shot through her hands. She screamed. For a moment she couldn’t even think it was so bad; a blinding, searing agony.

“AGH! FUCK!” she yelled again and fell back. 

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy,” Mako said. “I said stay off your hands. As I was saying, they made a spark between the things you were holding. And you were holding them. I don’t think your suit is as electricity-proof as you thought it was. Even wrapped around your hands you got a big shock.”

Asami brought her hands up to her face. Her palms and the insides of her fingers were red and blistered, with bits of black that seemed almost melted into them. Just looking at them made her a little queasy. They throbbed and burned, bad enough that it almost made her cry. 

“But we got out,” she said softly, trying not to hear the shake in her voice.

“Yeah,” Bolin said. “We got out.” He looked proudly at Opal, who so far had said nothing. She was staring at Asami with an expression somewhere between awe and horror. “Opal’s air cushion worked awesome, too. And when Mako started yelling for help she was able to airbend the hole you’d started the rest of the way open.” Opal smiled at that, though she still looked a little uneasy. Asami had to admit that this was a hell of an introduction to hanging out with Team Avatar. 

With Mako and Bolin’s help Asami managed to sit up. It was a little hard. Her hands hurt so much it was difficult to focus, and she felt so tired. It wasn’t the first time she’d been badly electrocuted, but this seemed worse by far than the fiasco with her father’s electric fence. Or at least, it felt worse. Yet from what Iroh and Bolin had told her she’d been fully unconscious for at least a few minutes. That had been two years ago though. Perhaps she’d just forgotten how bad it had been.

It was only once she was sitting that she remembered she was wearing nothing but Varrick’s sky blue coat. It wasn’t as long as she’d remembered it either, being quite a bit shorter in the front than in the back. Thankfully Varrick was so tall it at least covered her, but she wasn’t going anywhere dressed like this. 

“Where’s my outfit?” she asked. She’d been partly kneeling on it when she’d cut through the metal of the entrance to the holding cell in order to shield her from the current running through the metal floor, one leg of her pants wrapped a few times around each hand to insulate her from the electrified tubing. Not that it seemed to have done much good.

“Um, I have bad news,” said Bolin. He held up a burned and melted looking mass of gray and maroon. It was smoking faintly. 

“If you do that to my thinking coat I’ll burn down your factory,” Varrick said flatly. Asami wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not. It was hard to tell with Varrick sometimes.

“Better it than you though, right?” Bolin said. He inadvertently glanced at her mostly bare legs and colored. “And you promise Iroh isn’t going to kill us?” he added in a high, slightly strangled voice.

“We have worse problems,” Asami said. Her hands throbbed. “Any sign of Tschuna or any of them? With all my yelling just now, I can’t believe they didn’t hear us.”

Mako shook his head. “Nothing.” 

“Be ready for that to change. And Korra and Iroh?”

“No sign. You wait behind some of those buildings and Bolin and I will go see if we can find them.”

“That’s a bad plan, Mako,” Asami said, shaking her head. “We need to stick together. The whole reason we got in this mess is because we split up. We’re stronger together, all of us.”

“Asami, you shouldn’t be doing anything. You look like you can barely sit up.” He wasn’t exactly wrong. She couldn’t remember having ever been so tired. But lying around here wouldn’t help anyone.

“You’re not my mother, Mako,” she said. She gingerly got to her feet, careful to keep Varrick’s coat as low as possible over her legs. “We’re going to find Iroh and Korra, and we’re going to do it together. Then we’re going to get the hell out of here as fast as we possibly can. The sooner all that happens, the better.”


	92. IROH

“Hands behind your back,” Hazon said.

Iroh raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. “I thought I was a guest?” 

“A firebending guest,” said Hazon. He didn’t smile back. “Only fire I want to see comes out of our mecha now, you hear?”

Iroh turned his back to the big man and crossed his wrists behind him. He was careful not to look at Korra. Whatever expression was on her face, Iroh knew he didn’t want to see it. Things were hard enough already. Probably for both of them. After all, he’d put one of his closest friends in a terrible position, largely for selfish reasons. He wasn’t proud of that.

Iroh deliberately positioned his arms so that his right was on top in hopes that any restraints wouldn’t rub against the delicate skin of his wounds, but even the pressure of his own wrist was painful. That wasn't good. He didn’t recall it hurting quite so much yesterday, or even early this morning. Of course, he hadn’t been paying much attention. When he’d been with Asami last night he’d been focused on the very, _very_ good things happening to other parts of his body, and when he’d let her gently re-bandage his arm neither of them had been wearing anything. Given how long they’d been apart he couldn’t recall looking at the healing cuts, or even thinking about them much at all.

Iroh smiled to himself. Looking back now, he was especially glad they’d had that time together, and the funny little date as well. It might seem to others like nothing but tuna sandwiches on a box and rather delicate sex, but he had always been better with actions than words. For him, every gesture, every look, every touch had screamed to Asami “I love you!” as loudly as Iroh knew how. And from what he could tell, she’d returned the message. You might miss it if you didn’t know her well, but her _eyes._ It seemed like all his life, all Iroh had ever wanted was for someone to look at him like those big green eyes had looked at him last night. Like they could see right through him, and that everything they saw inside, all of his flaws and imperfections, were somehow precisely what was wanted. Not needed; someone strong and independent like Asami would never truly need anyone. But wanted all the same. Exactly him. To be honest he still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to deserve it. A person like Asami could have anyone she wanted, or no one. Yet to Iroh’s amazement she’d picked him, and kept picking him. How incredible to have found that, lived that, even if just for a little while.

He felt a band of metal curl and fasten around his wrists and tried not to flinch at the increased pressure—no need for cuffs or keys when you could metalbend. There was a certain finality to it. If Iroh had intended to run, or fight, his window had closed. Korra might be able to break his bonds by freezing and thawing the metal with her waterbending, like Katara had done for him once at the South Pole, but there was nothing that Iroh himself could do now even if he’d been well. 

Because he wasn’t well. He had to admit that. Despite the heat of the day he was shivering again. Though he’d done his best to project strength and resolve, the walk from the courtyard to the end of the tent where Hazon and the other fighters stood, a distance of perhaps only four or five satomobiles, had taken a fair amount of concentration. He had the beginnings of a headache, and he could feel a dull, steady heat on the back of his right wrist. Iroh knew what it was now, too. He’d been so focused on the tasks at hand that he’d missed the signs, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been here before. Fever, chills, disorientation, extreme fatigue. Increasing heat and pain in his arm. Trouble staying focused. Taken together, classic signs of a blood infection.

Iroh’s hand started to move to his side where the scar was before he remembered he was bound. It had been more than six years, but the infection that had set in after he’d been stabbed in the side with a Sand Tribe blade had almost killed him. As it was he’d been in the healing center in Zaofu for six weeks, four of which he barely remembered at all. It was easy enough to believe it could happen again. He’d cut himself badly in dirty conditions and, while waterbending healers generally tried to prevent that kind of thing, Iroh had been one of hundreds of wounded on the ships. Everyone was busy and distracted, and the focus had been on the blood loss. Korra had given him extra attention as well, but healing had never been her strong suit. And since Iroh, never a fan of being fussed over in the infirmary, had discharged himself as fast as possible, no one would have caught the early signs. As for curing a blood infection, it was a long road even with skilled healers, as all waterbending did was accelerate the body’s natural processes. It wasn’t a cure-all. If you were already weak or injured, it could take weeks of delicate, constant care. Or at least, it had the last time.

As far as Iroh could tell there were no healers in SWE.

“All right, let’s go,” Hazon said.

“May I at least have a bigger pyramid this time?” Iroh asked. What the hell, he could be cheeky. He didn’t have much to lose at this point.

“Got a whole guest suite,” growled Hazon. “It’ll be a little tight, but seems you like these folks.”

Iroh froze. Then his head snapped to Jashan. “No,” he said. “We had a deal! A deal that is clearly in your interest. You’re releasing the others.”

Jashan smiled her cold smile at him. “Never be a player, Speaker Iroh. You’re dreadful.” She reached into her pocket and brought out a small, glittering object. It shone silver and gold in the slanting sunlight. Iroh’s heart stuck in his throat. Asami’s engagement ring.

“What have you done with her!” he roared, lunging forwards. Hazon gripped his arms tightly, holding him fast. All around him members of the SWE group stepped forwards, placing themselves in a ring between Jashan and Korra. Behind Jashan, Cuzon stared at him, his face white. 

“She gave it willingly, I assure you,” Jashan said. “She traded it, actually, much as you traded yourself. Fire sapphires, the royal jewels of the Fire Nation, for your life. Or at least, to end our obligation to her father. We were to sell it, and use the profits to pay back what Hiroshi Sato had given.”

“Where is Asami?” Iroh growled. “Where are the others? You have me now. You are _going_ to let them go.”

“Even if it hadn’t come off of her left hand, we would have known,” Jashan continued, as if Iroh hadn’t spoken. “How else would she have gotten them? These do not come easily, even to someone as rich as a Sato. And even if they did, why argue so passionately for you? No love unrequited burns as hot as that. She called your life her own. Priceless, one of a kind, even as this ring is. Compare that to your act with the Avatar just now and it’s almost laughable. I’m not sure even a child would have believed your feelings were genuine, or hers.”

Iroh said nothing. He’d already given too much away with his outburst. Not that it was likely to matter. It seemed like Jashan had seen right through him. He should have known better. He’d always been hopelessly transparent when it came to his feelings. Everyone told him so. He could probably kiss Korra all night long and no one would believe for a second it was love.

“You are a poor liar, Speaker Iroh,” Jashan said, as if reading his thoughts, “and entirely too predictable when your friends and companions are threatened. Coming yourself to speak with us rather than sending an emissary. Releasing that fire signal on the cliffs instead of shielding yourself. Coming a second time when you could have sent the Avatar alone. Trading your generalship in the United Forces for the ability to Speak for the Fire Nation. At every turn, you go out of your way to thrust yourself between the oryx and the tigerdillo. So forgive me if you offering yourself now in order to free your friends, but not the woman you claim to love, did not feel… exactly in keeping with your character.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I believe you when you say you will die for Speaker Korra. I believe you will die for a lot of people, actually. Most of all Miss Sato. But I don’t believe for a second that you will allow us to use you as leverage against any one of them.”

Iroh glared at her as his last hope faded. She must mean Varrick and Zhu Li. Their plan had been to stay hidden, but watching, powering up the electromagnet only if a fight with the metalbenders broke out, and radioing for help otherwise. If they had been caught, there was no hope of a last minute rescue. “Let them go,” he said again. “All of them. You gave your word.”

“You lied to us, Speaker Iroh.” Jashan shook her head, as if disappointed in a child. “So we lied to you. Lies beget lies. It’s a sad business, but Southwest Earth Kingdom is used to it.” She turned to Korra. “Our proposition has not changed. Avatar Korra, our only chance remains a quick defeat of the Earth Kingdom’s army. You will not leave this place. You will help us, and your friends will be fine. No Beifong or Sato will even know they are here. You prove reluctant, and I believe Speaker Iroh will convince you.”

“How would he do that?” Korra spat. “You’ve already said you lied to us. You’ll probably kill us all no matter what.” But Iroh hung his head. He already knew.

“Because if you don’t cooperate, we’ll start with Miss Sato.” 

Asami screamed in pain somewhere in the distance. Iroh didn’t know how he knew it was her, but he did, with complete certainty. “Asami!” he yelled, and tried to move again, but Hazon held him back. He lunged again, desperate, but got nowhere, then closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness almost sent him reeling. He sagged back against Hazon, bracing himself to keep from falling.

“You stay put, Fire Nation,” the big man growled in his ear.

“What are you doing to them?” Korra shouted. 

Jashan ignored them both. “Tschuna, Joziyah,” she snapped. “Go.” Tschuna and a young man about Iroh’s age detached from the group and trotted off into the courtyard. Iroh stopped struggling. If Jashan didn’t know what was happening either, it meant she hadn’t planned it. It didn’t change the fact that somewhere Asami was in pain, but it did mean that finally something had happened that Jashan hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something. Iroh seized it.

“Do you hear that?” he said loudly. “Is that who you are?”

“Silence!” shouted Jashan.

 _“No!”_ Iroh thundered, suddenly furious. He whirled on her in a sudden burst of strength, dragging a shocked Hazon behind him as he faced the men and women of SWE. “I am still Speaker, Jashan. By every law and custom of your own land you _will_ hear me. All of you will. I know your history. I believe your cause is just. I came to Southwest Earth Kingdom to help you. And you have beaten me, imprisoned me, and killed those I was responsible for through base treachery. I came again to help SWE, this time bringing the full weight of my own country and that of the Avatar to your cause. Instead of listening, you tricked me, captured my friends, and plan to force Avatar Korra to choose between her very purpose and those who are like family to her. And now you hold me here, where I have willingly come, and make me listen to the screams of the person I love most in the world?

“Is this what Soutwest Earth Kingdom has become? Are you so far reduced that you bite a helping hand to the bone in the name of winning? That you do to others as much, or even worse, than was ever done to you?” He scanned the quiet committee members, none of whom wanted to meet his eye. Then Iroh spat. “You do not deserve to win this war. You— _you_ are the desert lions now. And I am ashamed of you.”

No one spoke. 

Then Cuzon stepped forwards, his jaw set, green eyes blazing. "He is right."


	93. ASAMI

They crept quietly along the alley that had led around the back of the hill in the direction of the large meeting tent, Bolin in the lead, followed by Mako, Asami, Opal, Varrick, and then Zhu Li. After a moment’s consideration Asami had decided to arm Zhu Li and Varrick with the supplies she’d brought from the airship. She wasn’t able to use her hands at all, and they’d completely dismantled the magnet that Varrick had been carrying in order to make the makeshift electrical arc she’d used to cut through the copper wall. Opal had gone back into the mine and retrieved her Equalist glove, which Zhu Li now wore, as well as her canvas bag of electric bombs, which she’d given to Varrick. She had initially offered the glove to the inventor, but he had claimed that he was much better suited to supervising from a safe distance, preferring to leave the “hands on work” to his assistant. Asami wasn’t terribly surprised. Varrick might be brilliant, but he was fundamentally a coward.

They had barely left the opening to the mine when she heard the yelling. Iroh’s voice, furious. She’d know it anywhere. Asami tried to push past Mako and run, but he grabbed her arm. “Wait!”

“Iroh—”

“I heard it, too,” Mako said. “But we don’t know what we’re running into! You said it yourself, we have to be smart about this and stick together.”

Reluctantly Asami stopped. Mako was right. She wasn’t thinking clearly. In fact, the only thing that felt clear was the searing pain in her hands. The rest of her felt dull, numb, more like a doll stuffed with cotton than flesh and blood. The odd buzzing was still in her ears, too, making it difficult to walk, let alone concentrate. Perhaps the shock she’d suffered was affecting her judgement as well? After all, though she’d been able to fight her father in the mecha tanks after hitting the electric fence outside his airfield two years ago, she’d never remembered much of what had happened directly after. Iroh had asked her once why she and Bolin hadn’t waited for him at the airfield after he’d gone to attack the planes. Asami had been puzzled to hear that they hadn’t, and to realize that, when she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the journey back to Republic City at all. It wasn’t too hard to believe that an even worse shock was affecting her ability to make decisions now. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bolin tense. Then he stomped one foot hard against the ground and closed his eyes. “Guys?” he said after a moment. “We’ve got company.”

“What kind of company?” Opal asked. 

“The bad guy kind.”

Mako half walked, half dragged Asami into an opening between two rough stone buildings and she saw the others follow suit, fading quietly out of the alley. “Stay here,” he whispered.

“Mako, I—”

“Shh!” Asami stopped talking. A moment later she heard the crunch of footsteps.

“Relax, Tschuna,” said a man’s voice, “there’s no way they got out. They’re 40ft underground, and you said none of them can metalbend. It’s impossible.”

“General Iroh got out of a solid stone prison not three days ago and all he can do is firebend. Left most of his blood behind, too, from the look of the mess. I would have said that was impossible. Besides, he seemed pretty convinced that yell was the Sato woman, and it was most definitely not coming from underground.”

“At that distance?” the man said. “It could have been anyone. Even some of the kids playing. You know how they can’t shut up sometimes. And the general had help escaping. It’s not the same thing here.”

“What makes you think the other prisoners didn’t have help?” said Tschuna. “We caught those two extras, didn’t we? There could be more, or they could have contacted reinforcements. Iroh didn’t get to be General Iroh by being stupid, or by staffing stupid, either. Whatever one thinks of him personally, his inner circle at the United Forces was always top notch. It stands to reason the people he’d bring with him here aren’t stupid, either. Be ready for surprises.”

Asami could see them now, Tschuna and a man with close-cropped dark hair she recognized from the SWE group. They were almost in front of her now. All they had to do was look right and they’d certainly see her and Mako where they stood in the shadow of the low buildings. _Keep walking,_ Asami thought with all her might. _Just keep walking, I don’t have time for you._

“Surprises like this?” Bolin said loudly, stepping out from between the buildings one row to Asami’s right. “Surprise!” He flung his arms up into the air and the floor of the alley buckled under where Tschuna and the other man stood. They dived opposite directions, the man flattening himself against the hillside while Tschuna tucked into a roll that ended in the row to Asami’s left. There was a crackling noise and a yelp, then a thud of impact. 

Mako pushed past her and rushed the dark-haired man. The earthbender pushed himself off the hill, then growled and dropped into a stance. But Mako’s sudden burst of fire took him hard in the chest before he could bend. Iroh might have trouble using fire as force, but to Mako, with his years of pro-bending experience, it was second nature. The other man was knocked back against the hill again. Mako strode forwards, flames spouting from both his fists. “I’d surrender if I were you,” he said. 

A glittering object arced through the air and hit the ground at the man’s feet. It exploded in a shower of glass, then flashed white. Mako yipped and jumped back. There was a sizzling pop and the dark-haired man jerked, then fell to the ground, seemingly unconscious.

Mako turned back, his dark brows knit in annoyance. “I had it handled, Varrick. He was surrendering. And you almost hit me.”

“I wanted to see what those did,” the inventor replied from somewhere she couldn’t see. “I’m beginning to see why Asami likes electrocuting people so much. It’s oddly satisfying. Like frying a piece of bacon, if that bacon were a human being twitching on the ground.” 

Asami was only barely following what was going on. It was like the world was on some kind of time delay. Varrick must have thrown one of her electric bombs, then? That would explain the flash. And someone, probably Zhu Li, must have disabled Tschuna from close range as well, since Mako’s stance indicated the fight was over. Two bad guys. Then one. Then zero. Boom. Like magic. Only it wasn’t magic, it was mecha. 

Spirits, she was starting to sound like Varrick. Magic mecha? Asami shook her head, trying to focus. Her mind kept drifting in odd ways, but the important thin was getting to Iroh and Korra. “We good?” she asked. Her voice sounded far away.

Bolin hooked his thumbs into the sides of his pants and grinned. “We good.”

***

They were close enough now that Asami heard what sounded like raised voices from the direction of the meeting tent. None of them sounded like Iroh though. She started to move forwards but Mako gently pushed her back. “Let Opal and I go first,” he whispered. “Remember? Hopefully that’ll buy us a few seconds’ advantage.” 

Right. That was the plan. Because they had a plan. Asami closed her eyes. Spirits she had to get a grip. It was like her brain had been unplugged. Slowly, carefully, she closed her hands into fists. The pain was unbelievable, but it had the desired effect. She bit her lower lip hard as the fog around her cleared a little.

“Good luck,” she said quietly.

Mako and Opal were each now sporting the kind of loose-fitting rough brown outfits of the people of SWE. It was a little unfair that they got two outfits while Asami was still dressed in nothing but Varrick’s coat, but they’d agreed that it made the most to get their firebender and airbender in as close as possible, seeing as those were capabilities that the men and women from SWE were unlikely to have. There was always the chance—a good chance—that there were some stolen smackers among them, but even those only mimicked the most basic bending moves. And, though Opal looked nothing like Tschuna, she was the closest in height and build. With the loose scarves the people of SWE wore pulled up to cover her hair, she and Mako might be able to pass for the two guards for at least a couple of moments.

They had left Tschuna and her companion semi-conscious in one of the buildings near the metal prison room, bound and gagged with the burnt synthetic fabric of her Future Industries suit. Even damaged as it was, it wouldn’t tear easily. Asami hoped it tasted terrible. 

Bolin pulled Opal into a kiss. “Be careful, okay?” he whispered. “I’ve only got one of you.”

Opal laughed softly. “You, too. Get ready to be the cavalry.” 

Bolin grinned and bowed a little. “Your majestic steed awaits, my lady.”

“Well if he’s the steed, what am I?” Varrick asked.

“Backup steed,” Mako said, at the same time Asami said, “Majestic ass.”

Mako grinned at her. “You win.”

“You wouldn’t know a majestic ass if it sashayed by in a red sequined thong tooting ‘Fair Go the Lily Maid’ on a Sungi horn,” said Varrick in a huff.

“Your ass is very majestic, sir,” Zhu Li deadpanned. Asami snorted. Despite the pain and the deadly seriousness of their situation, some things just had to be laughed at.

“All right,” Mako said. “Opal, let’s go.” He straightened as Opal moved next to him, casting one last look at Bolin. He flashed her a reassuring smile, but his eyes looked worried. Then they turned and strode confidently in the direction of the meeting tent.


	94. IROH

“It is not your role to Speak, Cuzon.” Jashan’s voice was like ice. 

“Yes it is,” Cuzon said firmly. “I should have spoken sooner. I will not stand by and watch any more of this.” He turned to face her, and Iroh saw him tense. From everything he had told Iroh on the ship, challenging a Speaker openly in a formal setting was a bit like refusing to honor the results of an Agni Kai. It was technically possible, but rarely done and deadly serious. 

To his surprise, Jashan actually laughed. “Stand by? You act as if we are not one. I am but the Speaker for the committee. A committee that you are a part of. Everything is agreed. We have always spoken with one voice, Cuzon, and that voice and your voice are the same. So please, do not pretend to our guests that anything that has passed was over your objection.”

“I pretend no such thing," said Cuzon. "I am as much a part of this as any. I stand by that. But our people have made so many sacrifices. We can’t let the final victim be our own souls. We are better than this. If we hope to regain the basic right to govern ourselves, we _must_ be. We must draw the line somewhere. I draw it here."

Cuzon walked across the tent to stand shoulder to shoulder with Iroh. No one stopped him, though whether from conviction or shock Iroh couldn’t tell. “You can no longer call this farce a formal discussion between parties, Jashan,” he continued. “There are no parties. Only prisoners. We need no Speaker here. We need reason. And if we do not hear it from you, then we will look for it elsewhere.”

“From outsiders?” Jashan let out a cold laugh. “I should have known. Once a traitor, always a traitor, Cuzon. Not six days ago you turned on your own forces. You swore an oath to them, did you not? Then you betrayed the man you stand next to now. If I’m not mistaken, you treated the highest honor of the Fire Nation, the outcome of an Agni Kai, like so much dirt under your shoe. Now you turn on your country. You have no more loyalty than a soldier of fortune. Tell me, what did Prince Iroh offer you? I dare say he’s fresh out of fire sapphires.”

Cuzon went rigid. “You and my country are not the same thing!” he spat. “The moment you started thinking that was the moment you no longer Spoke for us. Iroh offers me nothing besides what he has always offered, even if I didn’t always see it. A chance at peace, a real one. We tried it your way. We tore up the tracks, blocked the supply lines, stopped the mining. They sent us to rot in Earth Kingdom prisons. We killed their guards, their soldiers, so they killed ours. They called in the United Forces to keep the peace and we murdered them outright, and now the Earth Queen’s army comes to murder us as well. Where does it end? What do you really offer us, Jashan?”

“I offer you victory!” Jashan snapped. “A victory hundreds of years in the making.”

“When did victory become more important than freedom?” snarled Cuzon. “Even if the Avatar helps us defeat the Earth Queen’s army, how can you still think that will end it? We have deterred no one. No allies will come to our aid now. There is a time for a military solution, and a time for a political one. If we ever want freedom for SWE, we need the latter. I say this as a career soldier, as a fleet commander, and, most importantly, as someone who served for years under General Iroh, one of the finest officers in the United Forces. Further fighting gains us nothing.”

Iroh blinked at that, then rubbed two fingers together to make sure he wasn’t delirious. Finest officers? Despite their recent alliance, he’d been under the impression that Cuzon had spent years hating not only who he was, but how he worked. Iroh might be a man of principle, but those principles were his own. Where they aligned with the United Forces, or his orders, things were fine. When they didn’t… well, perhaps there was a reason he’d been threatened with dismissal (or worse) four times in the last three years. Cuzon had always seemed much more by the book. Though, Iroh supposed, his standing up to Jashan now was hardly following the rules.

“Members of the committee,” Korra said in a loud voice. Iroh started. He had forgotten she was there, she’d been so uncharacteristically quiet. "Do you really want to fight us? Do you really think that forcing me to fight the Earth Kingdom from you will leave you better off? I know I can help you, but not like that. Maybe you don’t believe me, or Iroh, but Cuzon is one of your own. Can you at least listen to him?”

“Cuzon does not speak for us!” spat Jashan. “He…” 

Iroh missed the rest of what Jashan was saying as the world suddenly spun. He pressed his left wrist hard into his right arm, trying to use the sharp pain to keep himself from passing out. Everything felt so light, and yet somehow his limbs were twice as heavy. Iroh breathed in slowly, deeply, focusing all of his attention on staying upright. His head pounded. This… wasn’t good. He’d been standing too long, he knew, but with Hazon holding him there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He had to keep it together long enough to help Korra.

“You have only one question,” Iroh said loudly, not caring whom he might be interrupting. He opened his eyes and scanned the group, trying to force as many people as he could to look at him. “The question is: Does Jashan speak for you now? If the answer is yes, then it’s over. For us as well as for you. But if the answer is no, then for spirits’ sake say something. If you want to be free, if you want SWE to be free, start here. Start now.”

Kjyn stepped forwards. She glanced at Jashan, who glared at her. Kjyn clenched her teeth, then met Iroh’s eyes. “No,” she said, her voice firm. “Jashan does not speak for me.” Iroh breathed out and his vision wavered a little. One. He’d gotten one. It was a start.

“This is war, Kjyn,” Jashan said, shaking her head. “Pretending it is anything otherwise is madness. The solution is to win it.” Just then the two guards Jashan had sent towards Asami’s voice trotted back towards the tent. But they stopped just at the edge, as if uncertain if they should come in or not. Iroh couldn’t blame them. Things had changed a bit since they’d left, even if it had only been a few minutes ago. “What was that?” Jashan asked. 

“Nothing,” said the man in a muffled voice. He had his brown scarf pulled up over his face and hair, as if it had been windy wherever he had been. “Secure.” Iroh went cold. He’d been so sure it was Asami’s scream. If so, what did “secure” mean? Had they hurt her further?

Cuzon nodded to the guards, then to Iroh next to him. “And these people who have come to help us? These ‘guests’ you now claim are secure? Do we now wage war on them as well?”

“They knew the risks in coming here,” Jashan said, turning her attention back to Cuzon. “The United Forces came to subdue us. Prince Iroh is a legitimate target, as is anyone he brought with him. As long as we chafe under the yoke of the Earth Kingdom, there will be casualties.”

“We are not the Earth Kingdom!” Korra yelled, her face suddenly livid. “We’re not even United Forces, not even Iroh. We wanted to help you! You started it. You made us your enemy.”

“You may as well be Earth Kingdom,” Jashan said coldly. “Look at you. You plead for your friends, but where were your tears for the children of SWE, Avatar? For Dan-yi and Men’an? How many lifetimes have you stood by and done nothing? And him,” she jabbed a finger at Iroh. “He pleads for his love, but what of yours, Kjyn? Cuzon? Where is Duan? Where is Lai now?”

“How _dare_ you?” Cuzon roared at the same time Kjyn went white. 

“Duan would be ashamed of you, too,” Kjyn said through gritted teeth. “And so would Dan-yi.”

Everything happened fast. But this time, Iroh saw it coming. A slight shift in Jashan’s stance, disguised as simply turning. Iroh rammed his left side into Cuzon as hard as he could, knocking them both off-balance. Cuzon managed to catch himself but, bound as he was, Iroh couldn’t. He landed hard on his shoulder and his head connected with the floor of the tent. Bright lights swirled around him in a split second of blinding pain. All of a sudden it seemed easier to just… stay there. He was so tired. Iroh closed his eyes as the world around him exploded into chaos.


	95. IROH

Iroh didn’t remember falling. He’d been up, and then all of a sudden he’d been down. For a moment he just lay there, slightly stunned, watching the big puffy clouds float by far above him. 

“Get up, Iroh,” said a kind voice. “Don’t tell me a big bad firebender like you is done already?”

Iroh sat up. He rubbed at the cold spot in his middle. It was a little wet. He looked defiantly at the old man kneeling next to him. “I’m not bad,” he said. 

Aang laughed. “No, you’re not,” he said. He took Iroh’s hand and stood, pulling him the rest of the way to his feet. “Ooof, but you _are_ big. I swear, I can’t keep up. Every time I see you, you’ve grown another inch.”

Iroh stood up straighter. He liked it when grown ups called him big. It wasn’t very often. Kazai and Matsu were big. Iroh was Iroh. 

“You ready, big guy?” Aang said. His gray eyes twinkled in his gently lined face. He took a few steps backwards and his long yellow and red robes swirled around his ankles like a fancy party dress. “Let’s see if you can get this one!”

“Okay.” Iroh looked down and concentrated, then carefully turned out his feet like his mom had taught him. _Watch your feet,_ I-mom always said. But Iroh’s feet didn’t want to be pointed out. It felt weird. He dug his toes into the soft grass, trying to get them to stay. At least he didn’t have to wear shoes. Unlike his mothers, Aang apparently didn’t care whether or not Iroh wore shoes outside. Aang wasn’t wearing shoes, either. Real earthbenders didn’t wear shoes, and Aang was a firebender _and_ an earthbender. One day Iroh would be, too, if he could figure out the feet part.

“Look at me, Iroh,” Aang said. “Forget your stance. You’re not in training. We’re just having fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Iroh said slowly. He pulled his gaze away from his feet, feeling oddly bad about it even though he knew his moms were away on their trip and wouldn’t see. “Why?”

The old man gave him a puzzled look. “Why what, Iroh?”

“Why do you want me for fun?”

Aang laughed again. “Because my own kids refuse to settle down and make grandkids, so I have to steal Zuko’s when he’s taking his afternoon nap.” Iroh didn’t know what to say to that. Zuko was his grandpa’s name, he knew that much. His grandpa was funny and could make all kinds of sounds by blowing into his hands. Iroh loved him. He was sometimes the only one awake when Iroh was awake and when that happened he let Iroh put as much honey as he wanted on his breakfast. Iroh didn’t love naps though. Naps were for babies. And grandpas.

Aang stopped laughing, perhaps seeing his confusion. “I want you for fun because you’re fun, Iroh. I like you.” He turned his shiny bald head once to the right, then to the left. “Do you see anyone else out here humoring me?”

Iroh didn’t know what humoring meant. He didn’t like not knowing things, but also didn’t want to ask because that meant Aang would know he didn’t know. “Want to see me melt a snowball?” he asked instead, hoping it was the right answer. He liked Aang, and being outside in the gardens, and not wearing shoes in the grass, and didn’t want to be sent back to the palace because he got something wrong.

“I do want to see you melt a snowball,” Aang chuckled. “Very much. So it sounds like what we need is another snowball, eh?” He moved his hands around in a circle and the air in the middle got solid. Iroh screwed up his face in concentration, trying to hold the fire inside him still just long enough to make it go all at once. It was hard, but Aang was counting on him for humoring. On him, Iroh, who no one counted on much at all because he wasn’t big like his brothers or his mothers or anyone. 

In another second the air was gone, replaced by a perfectly round ball of snow. Aang’s eyes gleamed. “Okay. You’ve got this, Iroh.” He tossed the snowball.

Iroh made himself wait a whole extra second this time, then let go. 

***

“Iroh.” Iroh felt the pressure on his wrists suddenly disappear. There was a lot of yelling, both close by and not. Someone shook him. “Iroh.” Then he was being shoved roughly to the side. His face scraped painfully against the ground. 

Iroh opened his eyes. All he saw were several shades of golden brown. Sand. He was lying with his face in the sand. He felt awful. His blood had turned thick and hot, coating his veins, his throat, and the backs of his eyes in burning sludge. Something big landed only a foot from his face with a crash. A brown-haired woman in brown clothes that he recognized.

 _You’ve got this, Iroh._ Somewhere, someone was counting on him for something. Counting on him because he was big. Iroh got his arms under him and pushed himself up on his knees, wincing at the pain in one arm. He could see the beginnings of thick bandages that started at his wrist and disappeared up the sleeve of his coat. Why was he wearing a coat though? He was so hot. 

Iroh heaved himself to his feet and gazed around. At first it seemed like everyone was fighting everyone else; a huge, chaotic melee of brown fabric interspersed with dashes of skin and color. Something flashed white off to one side. A long tan canvass lay balled and tattered on the ground as if it had been torn apart in a hurricane. Slowly things clicked into place. He was in SWE. In SWE, not with the United Forces but with the Avatar. Jashan had tried to attack them again and he’d… what? Tripped? Passed out? He wasn’t quite sure. 

“Iroh, down!” Iroh ducked instinctively, 20 years of firebending training and discipline kicking in without so much as a conscious thought. Something sailed over him and exploded with a crash against the side of a stone building behind him. He looked around and saw Korra fly up into the sky on a ball of air, braids swirling, her deep blue eyes now glowing with brilliant light. Below her stood Bolin, feet wide, two big boulders balanced just above his open hands. In the open area behind them Iroh could see flashes of fire as Mako, somehow now dressed in brown, engaged with two of the SWE fighters. _Mako. Bolin._ If they were here, then they must have found a way to escape wherever they had been. That’s what the fight was about. His friends held captive. Friends, and...

Iroh scanned the melee, looking frantically for Asami. He didn’t see her. Iroh remembered the scream and his chest tightened. If she wasn’t here, where was she? He knew Mako and Bolin would never have left her. He stumbled towards Bolin and Korra, hoping they could tell him where Asami was, but caught a fast movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun to see Jashan, her feet set in a loose stance, her dark curls hanging all about her face. She jerked one hand up into a fist, bracing it firmly with her other. The floor in front of her boiled up into a golden ball of swirling sand and Iroh took an involuntary step back. He’d never seen earthbending do that, not even among the Sand Tribes. As he watched, the sand contracted into a dense ball, and he was vaguely reminded of having seen a move like that _somewhere,_ a long time ago. But why would he associate it, not with sand, but with snow?

Jashan raised her arms and the ball flew up into the air, still stretching and condensing until it resembled an enormous sandstone fist. With one sharp movement she brought her arms between her knees. The sand fist flew forwards in a descending arc that hit Cuzon high in the back. Iroh hadn’t even seen him coming, but he seemed to have been running to the woman who had fallen next to him a minute ago. Cuzon grunted and was knocked to his hands and knees on the packed sand. Jashan swept her arms up and raised the huge fist again.

“Iroh! Catch!” Iroh snapped his head around to see Mako pull one arm back from where he stood across the courtyard, almost like he was stringing a bow. At first Iroh didn’t understand. Catch what? Then he got it. 

He couldn’t be serious.

Iroh knew Mako was talented, and had been surprised at the way that he’d worked out some of the finer points of firebending all on his own. But there were also huge gaps in his education in areas that were of little use to thugs, jocks, or urchins. The delicate way Iroh used his hands to heat tea, for example, had been completely lost on Mako. So had the fine control that Iroh used for things like accuracy over long distances. After all, Mako had never had to hit anything farther away than a pro-bending opponent.

Mako couldn’t make the shot. Not from where he was standing in the courtyard. And Iroh couldn’t firebend. Even if he might have been able to an hour ago, he knew he had nothing now. That must have been obvious to Mako as well. But Iroh was big. Much bigger than the sand fist, or even Jashan. Big, and easier to hit.

Mako flung his hand forwards, two fingers pointed straight at Iroh. The bolt of lightning crackled across the open courtyard. Iroh leaned a bit to the side and caught it in his outstretched hand, redirecting the energy into him. The current crackled up his arm, a warm, comforting heat that curled into his chest in a way that was nothing like his burning fever. Iroh held it for the barest second, then spun and jabbed his other arm towards Jashan.

The blue-white bolt of lightning hit the sand fist dead-center at a distance of perhaps seven feet. The huge fist exploded in a shower of red-hot sparks and molten sand. Iroh covered his eyes with his forearm, and not a moment too soon. Burning beads of glowing glass stung his forehead and hands like dozens of wasps. His nose filled with the smell of burning cotton.

Face still covered, Iroh ran at Jashan. But in his blinded state he tripped over the corner of the canvas that had been the roof of the meeting tent. He pinwheeled and fell, skidding on his knees and elbows until he came to a halt in front of her. He looked up to see Jashan's outraged face, her formerly round and pleasant features twisted and covered in small, blistered burns. Iroh rolled over as she bent her knees and gathered another cloud of sand. 

Iroh reached for the only thing he had. He pulled at the sword on his side, the sword that Jashan and Hazon and the others had all ignored because it wasn’t bending. Instead of slipping out of the scabbard though, the entire sword came free of his belt. Iroh swore. He must have attached it wrong. As Jashan brought the sand fist down on him he swung his right arm in a wide arc, hitting her in the side with the heavy wooden scabbard as hard as he could. Jashan grimaced and cursed, for a moment thrown off balance. But it was only a moment. She raised the sandstone fist again, but Iroh had no more momentum. That had been his one shot, and all he’d done was slow her down a little.

Suddenly Jashan’s body gave a violent jerk. Her face went rigid, then her light green eyes rolled into the back of her head. Iroh watched, dumbfounded. She twitched again, and this time the earthen fist she’d gathered came apart in a shower of clumped sand. He squeezed his eyes closed and felt Jashan collapse in a heap on top of his legs. She didn't move. He slowly brushed at his face, then opened his eyes. Cuzon was standing over him, panting slightly. Pressed against his open palm was Asami’s electric smacker.

Iroh reached up to push the sweaty, gritty hair out of his eyes. “Still holding out on me?” he croaked.

Cuzon laughed.


	96. ASAMI

Asami squatted down behind the hill, letting her burned hands rest loosely between her knees. She was trying as hard as she could to ignore them, to focus on what was going on around her, but it was impossible. She thought of the very first time she’d met Iroh, how he’d acted like a normal, rational human being despite having badly burned his arm in a bomb blast. Korra had done what she could with her bending, and Asami had given him some painkillers besides, but still. The fact that he’d described it as “comparatively not so bad” now seemed like a cruel joke. She’d never felt pain anywhere near this herself before, not when the Triple Threats had cracked her ribs or even when she’d crashed her motorbike and broken her collarbone so badly it had punctured her skin. Asami hadn’t even realized agony like this existed, that it was possible to have something hurt this badly, at least physically. The pain was like a constant presence, a bellowing voice in her mind that kept screaming that she was on fire, her hands were on fire, and literally nothing else mattered until she found a way to make it stop. But Asami couldn’t make it stop, any more than she could afford to let the pain distract her. She had to stay alert, to be prepared to help in any way she could. 

She hadn’t heard Iroh, nor Korra for that matter, since his outburst several minutes ago. It was driving her mad not being able to see what was going on, but they had to stay out of sight. She could still hear the raised voices, but from this distance could tell neither who was speaking nor pick out any specific words. Anything at all could be going on in the meeting tent now. Unless Mako and Opal came back or shouted a signal, they were in the dark.

Bolin crouched next to her, his whole body coiled and tense. It was weird to see tense on Bolin. He was usually so relaxed, and even before pro-bending matches or when they’d gone up against Unalaq or the Equalists he’d had more nervous energy than anything else. With a jolt Asami realized that this must be what Bolin looked like scared. After all, it was his brother and his girlfriend out there, walking bold as brass into a group of people who probably wanted to kill them. And Bolin had no family at all besides Mako. No one waited for him safe and sound in Republic City, ready to welcome him back with open arms if things here went horribly wrong. While it wasn’t romantic, in a lot of ways Mako was to Bolin what Iroh had become to Asami: his other half, his anchor, the one person in the world who loved him more than anyone else. It was a good reminder to her that she wasn’t the only one with everything—everyone—to lose in SWE.

Asami leaned over a little to touch his knee to hers. There wasn’t much else she could do, not without hands, but Bolin seemed to get the message. He smiled a little, but his big green eyes were round and staring.

“This is awful,” he whispered. “The waiting.”

Asami only nodded. She had nothing to say to that, besides that it was true. Happily Varrick, who was standing behind them with Zhu Li, had the good sense to say nothing either. It was a first.

With nothing to do but stand by, Asami started running through a list of tactics in her head. It was partly a way to pass the time, but if she was honest mostly a way to give her something to think about besides her blistered palms. The problem was, she wasn’t coming up with much. She knew she couldn’t fight anyone. That was abundantly clear. When it came down to it, there was very little that Asami could do without her hands. Sure, she could tuck her arms in and kick, but against two dozen earthbenders that was more likely to get her killed than turn the tide, and she’d be a distraction to her friends and Iroh as well. A distraction they couldn’t afford, outnumbered as they were. Though it sounded from the arguing like at least some of the SWE fighters might have joined their side, it wasn’t clear how many that was, or to what extent. And for all Asami knew, they might have been arguing about something else entirely.

So she couldn’t fight. She couldn’t even throw a rock or an electric bomb. But she couldn’t just sit here and do nothing if it turned out Mako and Opal had to do a quick smash and grab to get themselves, Korra, and Iroh to the airship. She felt utterly powerless.

An image rose to her mind of flat, icy plain ringed by black mountains. Iroh stood before her in a black jacket, his body stiff with what at the time she’d thought was simply nerves. After all, it was better this way, to just be friends. Safer, not to let him use her like Mako had done. He’d smiled a little, then snapped her a salute above anguished golden eyes. “Good luck, General Sato,” he’d said. 

_General Sato._ Iroh wasn’t a general anymore. But he’d trusted her to be one then, even after she’d broken his heart. And he’d continued to trust her ever since, steadily, patiently, the way he did everything else. Far more than she’d trusted him. _Trust yourself,_ he’d said only hours ago. _I do._ Like somehow he’d known that she needed to hear it one more time.

“We’re doing this wrong,” Asami said suddenly, trying her best to keep her voice low. 

“What?” Bolin said. “We’re not doing anything yet, Asami. I thought that was the point?”

She shook her head. “No, strategically. What we’re doing, it’s all wrong.” She gestured to the narrow alley. “This is the direction we left, remember? It leads straight to the prison. When Mako and Opal are recognized, everyone will expect us to come from this way. And it’s nothing but open, sand-covered ground between here and that tent.”

Bolin’s eyes went wide. “And they’re a bunch of earthbenders.”

Asami nodded. “Right. So that’s a whole boatload of potential weapons between us and our people, with perfect visibility. You might be able to do something or push through, but Varrick, Zhu Li, and I have nothing. We’d be stopped before we got anywhere near them. My glove, and even those electric bombs, they’re all short range.”

“Well,” drawled Varrick, “if there’s nothing we can do here, I think it’s time I went back.” He kicked out one leg and spun so he was facing back down the alley. “No sense in wasting good talent by throwing it at a hopeless fight when you can waste it drinking mai tai’s on the deck of a fleeing airship instead.”

“Actually, Varrick,” Asami said, “you read my mind.” 

Varrick froze, one leg still in the air. “I did?”

Asami nodded. “If we need to make a quick getaway, there’s no way we’ll make it back to the airship. Iroh looked like shit last time I saw him, and if we have a bunch of earthbenders on our heels they won’t make running through those hills easy. We need the airship to come to us.” She held up her hands. “You and I are the only pilots, and I can’t fly anything like this.”

Varrick narrowed his eyes at her. “And how do you know I won’t simply fly off into the sunset? It is, after all, a Varrick Industries airship that’s been hijacked by a competitor.”

“Because somewhere, deep down, I think you have a conscience, Varrick. Also, I have it in my will to use all of my assets to buy, and then dump, Varrick Industries stock.”

Varrick’s blue eyes widened. “No you don’t!”

Asami smiled, making sure to show a lot of teeth. “Do you really want to find out?” Without waiting for a reply she turned to Zhu Li. The heavy metal Equalist glove looked enormous on her slender arm. Hopefully that wouldn’t affect the function. “We could use you here, Zhu Li,” she said. “I can’t operate the glove, and there’s a chance Varrick might be seen. If you go with him through some of these buildings and position yourself on the other side of the tent, you’ll be able to stop anyone here who might try to go after him as well as cut off an exit. You might wind up not having to do anything, but you might have to do quite a lot. It’s a gamble. Are you in?”

Zhu Li looked at Varrick, as if waiting for instructions. Asami had never quite been able to figure out their relationship. Zhu Li was clearly smart; maybe even smarter than Varrick, and certainly more capable. Why she’d decided to attach herself to Captain Crazypants for years was beyond her. 

_“Fine,”_ Varrick grumbled. He handed Bolin the sack of electric bombs. “I’m naming my next battleship after you, you know.”

Asami rolled her eyes. “Get going. Something makes me think we’re going to need a ride out of here soon.”

“Do you really have all that in your will?” Bolin asked once they were out of sight. 

Asami snorted. “Of course not. I’m only 20. Why would I have a will?” She thought a moment about the situation they were in, then the fact that she’d been kidnapped—twice—in the last few months by Republic City’s most dangerous gang. “Though maybe I should.”

“So now what?”

“Well, I can’t do much, but would it be possible to use earthbending to get me on top of this hill?” 

Bolin looked up at the hillside. “Sure. But, uh, what’s up there?”

Asami shrugged. “Iroh is always talking about high ground as a huge advantage. So, I figure we take it if we can. I’ll bring the electric bombs, too. Maybe I can roll them down or something. Otherwise, it’s a good place for a lookout. That guy with Tschuna said something about kids, which makes me think there might be a lot more people here than the ones we’ve seen. Someone’s watching them, right? And who baked all those rolls?”

“And what about me?” Bolin asked. “You gave everyone else orders.” _Orders?_ Asami smiled to herself. Apparently she wasn’t the only one pretending she was a general. She thought again of how it had been on the airship, everyone looking to her for a plan. Maybe there was more to this idea than simply surviving the afternoon?

“See if you can go around and get closer without being seen. If you can get a sense of where Mako and Opal are, try to be opposite them so that if a fight breaks out you can come from both sides. Otherwise, just close the distance. Surprise might be our only advantage here if things get bad.”

“Gotcha.” Bolin stood, then screwed up his face in concentration. He moved his arms in a sweeping gesture, then fell into a series of jagged chops. A narrow strip of the hillside next to Asami flattened into a smooth slope, then bent inward about every foot or so. Soon there was a neat staircase that led all the way to the top.

“Wow, Bolin,” Asami said, honestly impressed. “Nice work.”

He puffed out his chest a little. “That’s me. Just call me Wow Bolin, the wowiest earthbender in the world.” 

Asami smiled at that, then stood. She held out her arm and Bolin hooked the bag of bombs over her elbow. “Good luck, Wow Bolin,” she said.

He grinned. “Good luck, General Sato.”

***

Asami immediately saw the advantage of the high ground. As she lay flat on her stomach against the packed earth of the crest of the hill she could see everything without being seen herself. She didn’t know what she could actually do from up here, but it let her keep tabs on all of the moving pieces. Even the voices carried better up here so that, unlike from where she’d crouched with Bolin, she could hear most of the conversation. From the top of the hill, everything below seemed nothing more than a big Pai Sho board. Except this time, she was playing for keeps.

And so it was that she watched everything unfold. Or nearly everything. At first the brown canvas of the roof of the tent kept most of the action out of sight. But she could see Mako and Opal in their disguises where they stood just outside the tent, and follow the progress of Varrick, Zhu Li, and Bolin as they flashed in and out of view between the tents and buildings, repositioning themselves as she’d instructed. 

Suddenly someone yelled. Mako and Opal immediately sprang into action, jumping in opposite directions in response to some unseen action inside the tent. Luckily, one of the first things Opal did was spin up what looked like a miniature tornado. Metal chairs swirled and crashed as they fell over. Then the canvas roof of the tent lifted right off in a whirl of tattered fabric, landing in a heap in the middle of the tables. Right next to where a figure in the red and white uniform of the United Forces lay unmoving on the ground. 

Everything kind of… slowed down. Bolin rushed out from between the buildings, flinging a boulder the size of an armchair at someone rushing Korra. The brown-clad figure spun and crumbled it to dust. A blonde man who might have been Cuzon knelt next to Iroh and shook him, then moved his hands in a circular motion at his back before dragging him a few feet and mostly out of the action. Iroh slowly stirred, then struggled to his feet, and Asami let out a breath. But he seemed dazed and wasn’t reacting to what was happening around him. Spirits, he’d be a sitting turtle duck if he kept wandering around the middle of the fight like he was lost and needed directions. 

Asami dragged the bag of electric bombs carefully forwards where it was still looped around her arm. Then she bit her lip and reached inside, grasping the neck of one of the soda bottles as gently as she could between the tips of two fingers. It hurt like hell, but she managed to pull it out. Aim wouldn’t matter, after all. All she needed to do was cause a distraction until Iroh either woke up or took himself out of the fight. Asami took one last look, making sure in particular she wasn’t dropping it on Mako’s head, as he’d moved out into the open area near the mine. Then she rolled the bottle down the hill. 

It exploded in a flash of light. Everyone except Iroh looked around. He, in turn, seemed to be looking for something else entirely. His head slowly swiveled, surveying the scene. Then he lurched towards Korra, only to get distracted by something else and stop again. It was like he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. 

Asami crawled forwards on her elbows. Mako was closest. She cupped her burned hands to her face. “Mako!” she yelled. “Help Iroh!” 

Mako glanced up, then quickly dodged a burst of flame from someone who clearly had a fire smacker. Then he looked over at Iroh, who was now staring at where Jashan held a big rock over her head. The man who might be Cuzon was on the ground before her. 

“Iroh!” Mako yelled. “Catch!” 

_Catch?_ Iroh looked like he could barely walk straight, and Mako was going to throw something at him? Iroh’s head snapped to the side; at least he’d reacted to Mako’s shout. It was the most she’d seen him do so far. 

Then Mako shot a bolt of lightning straight at him. Iroh stepped quickly to the side and caught it. Spirits, he actually _caught it,_ his formerly dreamy movements transformed into the quick reflexes of a man who’d bent fire his whole life. He spun and shot the lighting straight at Jashan’s rock. 

And that’s when the hill came down. 

The ground underneath her was there, and then it wasn’t. It was that fast. There was a lurching, sliding feeling, and then Asami was tumbling, spinning, her eyes and throat filled with stinging dust. She instinctively flung out a hand to stop herself and screamed as rock and gravel tore into her burns. Everything after that was a blur of agony, the red hot pain in her hand eclipsing the whole world. After an eternity she landed with a thud and just curled there, gasping, clutching her hands to her chest as tears streamed down her face. 

“Asami!” Something red flung itself at her. Hot, familiar hands brushed at her face, her arms. “Asami, oh no, Asami tell me what hurts.” Someone else yelled in the background, but Iroh never took his eyes off her.

“Iroh.” It was all she could manage. She couldn’t begin to say what hurt. There weren’t words for the pain anymore, just a blank place in her mind filled with howling agony that drowned out every other thought. Iroh kept moving his hands, pressing gently against her sides, her back, down her bare legs. But when he tried to look at her hands she cried out, clutching them tight against her chest. 

“Okay,” Iroh muttered. “Okay, don’t worry. I’ve got you. I’m not going to hurt them.” His golden eyes had a wide, staring look. “I just need you to nod if you know who I am and what’s going on. You don’t have to say anything.” 

Asami nodded and Iroh visibly relaxed. Another crash sounded from the direction of the tent, but he didn’t turn. Instead he slowly unbuttoned his jacket, which seemed burned in several places, and laid it over her legs. Then he kind of curled around her, placing as much of his body as he could between her and the fighting. He seemed baking hot, even for him, like the cement of her pool deck on a bright summer day. As he settled down, Iroh’s expression gradually changed from worried to slightly confused, or perhaps simply distracted. This close she could see the heavy flush on his face, as well as several small burns of his own. Perhaps he’d gotten too close to the lightning.

At the same time Asami was getting herself more under control. The pain was still excruciating, but at least she could think a little. The hill. One of the earthbenders must have heard her yell to Mako and decided to take out whoever was up there. She should have thought of that, but at the moment it had seemed too important to act.

“Iroh, I’m okay,” she said softly. She knew he’d checked her for any real damage, but she wanted him to know anyway. “Or not okay, but okay enough.” 

“I’ve got you,” Iroh muttered. His eyes closed a little, then opened again, unfocused. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing there, I promise. I just checked.”

“Nothing where?” she asked slowly. She didn’t understand what he meant.

“I’ll stay if you want me to, Tai,” he mumbled. “Promise I’ll fight the monsters.” He closed his eyes again.

_Monsters? Tai??_

“Iroh?” This time he didn’t answer. 

“Korra!” Asami yelled, propping herself up on one elbow. She shook Iroh with the back of her hand and his eyes fluttered, but no more. “Korra!”


	97. ASAMI

“Iroh, sweetie, is that you?”

Asami squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the microphone harder. “This is Asami Sato, Republic City Central Command. I’m here with Avatar Korra. We have an update on the situation in Southwest Earth Kingdom. Ir—er, Prince Iroh left us instructions to contact you as soon as we could regarding the commitments that he has made as your delegate for the Fire Nation.” It all sounded so formal, but this was, technically, official business of the highest importance. She wasn’t talking to Iroh's mother. She was briefing the Firelord.

Apparently the Firelord didn't care. “Asami, what’s wrong?” Her voice crackled faintly. The radio on the airship, the one she’d stolen from Varrick, wasn’t quite as good as the ones on the battleships.

“I’m here with the Avatar,” Asami powered through, “and with several representatives from Southwest Earth Kingdom, including Speaker Kjyn, who is empowered to speak on behalf of SWE. If you are agreeable, they will outline what has been discussed here, and then request—”

 _“Asami._ That’s fine, and I’m pleased that they’ve come to the table. But honey, where’s Iroh?”


	98. ASAMI

Asami didn’t go to the funeral. She’d been asked, as it was as much a diplomatic event as a personal one, but she hated the idea of all of those eyes following her, accusing her, whispering behind her back that she’d robbed them of their leader, their friend, the hope of their country. After all, though she hadn’t dealt the final blow herself, it was still her mecha behind it all. One day she might be able to forgive herself for that, but it wasn’t likely to be soon. 

To her surprise, Cuzon had gone though. He’d made the nearly 500-mile trek mostly on ostrich horse, refusing a ride on the airship with a quiet stubbornness that reminded Asami entirely too much of Iroh. Something about honoring a fallen enemy in the old ways, though how much they’d really been enemies was rather debatable. Regardless of his real feelings though, it was a smart move politically. It showed solidarity, support for the peace process, and other bullshit that Asami could frankly care less about. She knew she should be more enthusiastic about the upcoming talks between the Earth Kingdom and the committee from SWE. It was the outcome Iroh had given so much for, after all. But somehow it just didn’t seem important.

Instead Asami sat alone at the little table, both hands wrapped around a mug of thick hot chocolate. She hadn’t been in the mood for tea lately. Somehow it never tasted right. A thin book sat closed next to her uneaten breakfast. She’d thumbed through it a few times, but had found she couldn’t focus on _A General History of the Western Pirates_ any more than she could the comings and goings on the streets below. It wasn’t her kind of book even in the best of circumstances—Asami stuck to sci-fi dramas and the occasional good biography—and it didn’t help that the entire back cover was soaked in Iroh’s blood.

The city of Zaofu stretched out before her in the early morning light. It was a beautiful city, in any objective sense. Slender white stone buildings rose up gracefully into the clear blue sky, echoing the steep slopes of the verdant mountains behind them. The wide, tree-lined streets were clean and straight, with very few vehicles, and from this height she could see a number of the small parks that dotted the city. Every now and then there was a sparkling flash as a piece of shining metal caught the orange light of the rising sun. The whole feeling was bright and light, with none of the hustle and grit of downtown Republic City. 

Asami hardly noticed any of it. The big windows took up the entire southeast corner of the large white room, but they may as well have opened out into outer space for all she’d really looked. Opal had of course invited her to stay with the others at the Beifong estate, which had been opened as a place to host visitors until the peace talks started in earnest, but she’d refused. The white room was her world, and had been for days. Sometimes she ate, but not much. Sometimes she slept on the little couch against the back wall—also not much. Breathe in. Breathe out. She'd been hard-pressed to care about anything else. 

There was a knock at the door, then nothing. That was odd. Usually the healers knocked, then walked right in. After all, this was their space. Asami was only a temporary resident, albeit the kind of red-eyed, rumpled guest that the healers knew better than to suggest would be more comfortable elsewhere. 

The knock sounded a second time. Asami put her mug down quietly and crossed the room. She opened the door just a crack, prepared to tell whatever official that was on the other side that no, there was no change, and yes, she knew full well that that this was complicating the political situation, but could they please just go fuck themselves?

Two big blue eyes looked up at her out of a dark lined face. “Hello, Miss Sato. It’s good to see you again. May I come in?”

“Master Katara?” At first Asami thought her lack of sleep had finally pushed her over into waking dreams. What on earth was Katara doing in Zaofu? They were a thousand miles from the South Pole. She opened the door wide and stepped aside, too surprised to say anything further.

Katara made her way into the room and went immediately to the bed. She leaned over to run her gnarled fingers gently through thick dark hair, her expression filled with a combination of worry, exasperation, and love. “You idiot,” she muttered. “I swear, Iroh, sometimes you’re worse than Bumi.”

***

“Zuko called me,” Katara said. She pulled the thick blankets down all the way to Iroh’s ankles. He was flushed and sweating all over, but Asami had been told to leave them on anyway. Apparently keeping him hot was helpful in some way. “Screaming at me that Iroh was dying of a blood infection in Zaofu and I needed to go _now,_ as if that’s the first time I’ve heard that particular story.”

“It isn’t?”

“Of course not. Though it is the first time anyone told his family about it before it was all over. The last time, oh, this would have been six or seven years ago, Iroh apparently told the United Forces not to say anything. Said he didn’t want to bother anyone.” She made a chuffing noise. “I assume telling Izumi was your doing?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. It would be a waste to have him pull through only for his mothers to kill him.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I was sorry to hear about that Jashan woman. From what Izumi told me, which I assume she got from you, it sounds like it was unavoidable. But still. It’s a sad business when our disagreements run so deep it turns to violence.”

“It’s my fault,” Asami said. “Cuzon, the one Iroh had been working with, used some of my mecha on her. I calibrated it to shock a young male unconscious. Use it on an older woman, one whose heart rate was already high from the exercise, and… there were so many things I never thought of.”

“Hog monkeys,” said Katara. “It’s no more your fault than Iroh’s or anyone else. She started a fight. She lost. It’s tragic, but that doesn’t make it your tragedy to bear.”

Asami didn’t quite know what to say for that. Katara leaned over, then bent some water out of a pouch by her side. She ran it slowly over Iroh’s exposed throat, frowning slightly. 

“Oh, Miss Sato,” she muttered. “I thought once he got his head out of the snow and let himself believe that you liked him as much as he liked you he’d have someone to look out for him. Maybe keep him away from the healers for a bit. Seems that plan isn’t working.”

“Wait. You knew? And please, Asami.”

Katara chuckled, moving her bending water to Iroh’s forehead. “Forgive me, dear, but you were both so awfully obvious. Yet it turns out you’re just as bad as he is. Broken cheek, broken ribs, burns, infections. Don’t think I didn’t see your hands. What ever happened to a nice dinner and flowers? Is a kiss on your doorstep not exciting enough anymore that you both have to go all around the world beating people up?”

Asami laughed a little. She supposed that might be how it looked from the outside. “Iroh and I have plenty of nonviolent dates,” she said. “And kisses.”

The old healer smiled as she stowed her water, then ruffled Iroh’s hair again. His eyes fluttered a little, but he didn’t wake. “Good. That boy could use some kissing. And I’m glad it’s you doing it, too. He could do a lot worse, and has. He deserves you, I think. And you him. I like that.” She ran her thumb over his sweating forehead. “Life’s too short to be unhappy on purpose.”

Another knock sounded by the door, but this time it was quickly followed by two large men in the blue and green robes of Zaofu healers. They carried an enormous white tub between them, which they set down on the floor to the right of Iroh’s bedside. The shorter of the men then went into the tiny bathroom and thumbed on the faucet. Soon he was bending a steady stream of warm water into the tub with gentle waves of his hands.

“Thank you,” said Katara, once it was filled. She turned to Asami, glancing down at her hand. Cuzon had given her ring back, after. He'd said she and Iroh had given enough to SWE already. “I also heard you’re going to be part of the family. And if I had any doubts about that, which I didn’t, that thing on your hand could flag down an airship. Leave it to Iroh to pick a ring that screams ‘this one’s mine!’ a thousand miles in every direction.” Asami smiled. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard something like that. It also seemed like no one was surprised. 

“I promise, it wasn’t my idea.”

Katara smiled at her, then nodded to Iroh. “Now, we’re going to need to get him in that tub. Healing works best on bare skin, too.” She quirked an eyebrow. “I’m assuming it’s nothing you haven’t seen before?” 

Asami blushed. “Er. No.”

“Me neither,” said Katara. “I was the first one, actually. Caught him with my own hands. Spirits, he was the fattest little baby I ever saw, and coming out of a stick like Izumi, too! No wonder he had so much trouble getting out. Though come to think of it, she wasn’t much better.” The old woman shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re in for. The royal line might wind up tall and skinny but they all come out looking like otter penguins.”

“Um.” She and Iroh had never talked about kids. She thought of the way he’d looked carrying Ronan the time they’d babysat for Tenzin, pacing back and forth in the moonlight as he sang his odd made-up song. One thing at a time.

“Ready?” one of the healers asked. 

“Right,” said Katara. She nodded to Asami. “Help me, dear. I’m sure he’d rather it was you than one of these big burly men.” 

Together they stripped Iroh out of the loose green gown he’d been wearing. He made a low sound in his throat, but otherwise didn’t respond. Underneath it all he seemed diminished, somehow, the familiar chiseled planes of his body slightly softer, his chest too thin. Asami saw Katara frown when she pulled his left arm from the sleeve. He was no longer wearing bandages, and his new scar shone pink and tight against his pale skin. The two healers then took over, lifting him on a count of three and then lowering him gently into the bath. Iroh was a big man and was never going to fit entirely, but by folding his long legs a bit they managed to get at least his torso submerged. With a few words to Katara to ring when she was finished they departed, closing the door softly behind them.

“It’s not what you think,” Asami said, once they’d left. “His arm, I mean.”

“Good,” Katara said. She pushed up her sleeves, then reached both hands into the healing tub. It started glowing faintly blue. “Healing is so much harder on those who don’t truly want it to work.”

“He wants it,” said Asami firmly. 

“Was a time maybe he didn’t,” Katara said. 

Asami stopped. _What?_ “I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps that’s a stretch,” she said. She started moving her hands in a swirling motion, starting again where Iroh’s throat touched the water and then slowly working her way down. “He’s always been serious, but a few years ago he kind of… lost himself in that, perhaps. He stopped laughing, would only talk about what he had to do, his obligations. It was all duty, honor, that kind of thing. Now don’t get me wrong, those are good things. But they can be taken the wrong way. To unhealthy places. And somehow Iroh got to a place where he thought those things were at odds with what he really wanted, and instead of figuring out why he just kind of numbed himself so he could get through it. It wasn’t obvious, but anyone who knew Zuko well could see the signs. After all, it runs in the family.” Katara shook her head. “I don’t know what happened, but about the time he lost all those ships to the Equalists he snapped out of it, and thank goodness for that.”

“What did he want that was so hard to get?” Asami asked. Realizing she couldn’t do anything further she’d settled for holding Iroh’s limp hand under the water. “I’d think a Fire Nation prince could have almost anything.”

“You, dear.” The old woman shook her head dismissively as Asami started. “Oh, not you specifically, I don’t think. But you all the same. Iroh has always been hopeless. Anyone with eyes could see he wanted the fairytale. That someday someone would come and sweep him off his feet so he could live happily ever after in a cloud castle with his true love and a pile of fat, giggling children. I think when he didn’t get that he blamed himself.”

“He blamed himself for not getting a cloud castle?”

“No. He blamed himself for being unlovable.”

Asami frowned. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” There really wasn’t anyone more obviously lovable than Iroh. Yet she thought back to the party at Tachi Hamada’s, where the people she’d thought were her friends had made it clear they found him little more than boring, royal eye candy. If Iroh had run in those same kinds of society circles in the Fire Nation, perhaps he’d been likewise overlooked. She should know, as she’d often felt the same way; as if everyone around her had taken some kind of pill that made them love parties and gossip and the shallow machinations of the upper class, and she’d somehow missed her dose. It was one of the big reasons she’d started dating Mako.

Katara snorted. “I know, right? Smart kid like him, and cute as a button. But I think that’s why he fought me so hard when I told him you liked him. A part of him, maybe a big part, had stopped believing it was possible.”

“Katara,” Asami asked. “Is he going to be okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. She had both hands pressed firmly to his abdomen, and seemed to be concentrating. “Just kiss him often, all right? He seems to need it more than most.”

It wasn’t lost on Asami that she hadn’t answered the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm such an asshole for writing the first half of this chapter the way I did.


	99. IROH

Iroh opened his eyes. The bright sunshine pouring through the large corner windows made him squint a little. There was a half-second of confusion, but after that it wasn’t hard to guess where he was. White walls, white floors, white curtains, white sheets. There might be slight variations, but ultimately an infirmary never looked much like anything else. 

He turned his head a little to look more at the room, wincing at the ache in his neck. He felt awful, every bit of him sore and exhausted. In addition, someone had tucked him in nearly up to his chin. While he wasn’t hot, exactly, Iroh had never been big on blankets and found the whole effect, combined with his body aches, a bit stifling. He felt dry and stale, as if it had been a while since he’d gotten up, let alone opened a window. What he wouldn’t give for a hot shower, a cold glass of juice, and one of Asami’s massages. 

As if his thoughts had made her manifest, Iroh finally spotted her. She was easy enough to miss. Asami was balled up on a peach-colored couch that was pushed up against the far wall. It looked about as comfortable as the hospital bed, but it was clear from the way she was breathing that she was sound asleep. Her back was to him, a thick, mint green comforter pulled up almost all the way over her head. She may as well have been a pile of extra blankets, burrowed as she was. The only giveaway was her hair, which fell out of the top of the pile in dark, shining waves. Iroh smiled. He’d always found the way Asami slept, tucked in like a badgermole in its den, ridiculously adorable. 

Iroh pushed his own blankets down and sat up a little, trying not to make any noise. He was dressed in a pale green hospital robe the same color as Asami’s blanket. It looked oddly familiar. He smacked his lips and scanned the room for something to drink, that feeling like the most pressing need at the moment. There was a mug on the small table near the window, but that was all. Odd. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to make himself decent, preparing to get up and go hunt down a glass of water without waking Asami. That’s when he noticed that the door was cracked open.

Two light green eyes stared at him out of a small face the color of honey. A pair of tiny pink lips mouthed the word, “hi.” 

Iroh held one finger to his own lips, then mouthed back, “hello.” The little girl grinned, pushing the rest of the way into the room. 

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Shh.” Iroh pointed at the bundle of blankets. “We have to be very quiet, Illea.” His voice came out in a croak, as if it had been a long time since he’d used it.

Illea smiled shyly, clearly pleased he’d remembered her. “Okay, Mr. Iroh,” she whispered in a voice that wasn’t quite as quiet as she probably thought it was. “Want to see what I can do?” Without further prompting she balanced on one leg, then started to count. “One, two, three, four…” With every number she gave a tiny bouncing spin, her long lavender dress twirling around her legs. When she got to twenty she stopped. Apparently she didn’t know any numbers higher than that. 

Iroh smiled. He wished he had half that much energy. “I’m very impressed,” he said softly. “What are you doing here?”

Illea shrugged. “Mama.”

Iroh nodded. So wherever he was, Kjyn was here, too. Yet this was clearly not SWE. It made him wonder exactly how much he’d missed. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember very much at all about what had happened. Cuzon had been arguing with Jashan, of that he was fairly confident, but after that he was less sure. There may have been a fight? And if Asami was here, it meant that somehow she’d gotten away from wherever they’d held her. Hopefully Bolin, Mako, and Opal had as well. And what on earth had happened to Varrick? He had so many questions, and no one but a six-year-old to answer any of them.

“Illea, can you do me a favor?” he whispered. She nodded with her whole head, her long blonde hair flapping. “I’m going to get up. If I fall down, can you wake up the lady on the couch? I might need her to help me.” 

Illea peered around him at the blanket lump. “Why is there a lady?” she asked. 

Iroh grinned. “Remember I told you about a lady who was going to be a princess? That’s her. She’s keeping me company while I don’t feel good, because she’s very nice. But she’s really tired, so we’re going to let her sleep as long as we can, okay?”

Illea’s eyes went wide, her mouth forming a tiny “o” of surprise. “A princess?” she whispered. She stood on her toes and craned her neck, trying to get a better look.

“She will be if I have anything to say about it,” Iroh said. Slowly he sat up. It was harder than it should have been. He swung both his legs over the side of the bed, then planted his feet firmly on the floor, trying to make himself take everything at about a quarter of the speed that he wanted to. At least no one had made him wear socks. 

“But Mr. Iroh, you said she wasn’t going to be a princess anymore.” Illea was ignoring him entirely now, stretching as far as she could over the edge of his bed to try to see more of Asami, even though there wasn’t anything to see besides miles of green comforter.

“Sometimes, it’s good to be wrong.” 

“She has pretty hair.” 

“She does have pretty hair,” Iroh said, still trying to keep his voice down. Luckily Asami had always slept like the dead. “Actually, all of her is very pretty. She’s really smart, too, and fun. It’s a bit unfair to all the other princesses. I’ll introduce you later.” Carefully he pushed himself up off the bed, making sure to hold on firmly to the edge. It wasn’t easy, but he felt more weak than dizzy, which was at least a nice change from how he’d been feeling ever since the incident in the stone pyramid. Slowly he stood, then let go. Okay. Operation walk was a go.

“Illea,” he asked, making his way to the open door. “Have you seen any juice?”

***

Iroh crept down the stairs, glanced at the sign, then turned right. Thankfully the room where Kjyn was had only been two over from his own, and he’d deposited Illea there without having to talk to anyone. He wasn’t entirely sure he was supposed to be out of bed, and to be honest didn’t entirely feel like he  _ should _ be out of bed, but the alternative was to have a bunch of healers fussing over him and he wasn’t in the mood. Not that he ever was. Iroh hated hospitals. Besides, that would wake Asami for sure. He was a grown-ass man with a brain and two legs; he could find the cafeteria on his own. 

He turned the corner and continued to follow the silver placards, eventually arriving outside a set of gray metal doors with glass windows. Iroh peered inside to see what was unmistakably the cafeteria. Small clusters of white tables surrounded by green chairs filled the open space beyond a long counter filled, buffet-style, with an assortment of food and drink. It looked nearly empty, too, it being well after the breakfast rush but not yet time for lunch. Good. He was already exhausted, and hadn’t looked forward to waiting in line. 

Iroh pushed through the doors and into the small cafe. The first thing he saw was a till.  _ Fuck. _ He hadn’t thought at all about money, and of course he hadn’t brought any. The stupid hospital gown didn’t even have pockets. There was no way he’d make it all the way back upstairs and down again without a rest though, not the way he was feeling, and besides he had no idea where his things were. Iroh glanced around, his eyes lingering longingly on a row of glasses nestled in a bed of ice, each filled to the brim with what looked like orange juice. Maybe if he just… 

He spotted an older woman standing on the other side of the room, her back to him as she examined what looked like a selection of teas. Her long, iron gray hair was pulled back into a half knot, her deep red dress a stark contrast to the nearly universal green and white of the facility. She must be a visitor then; she certainly didn’t look like a patient, let alone a healer. Apart from Iroh she was the only other customer at the moment. He felt terrible asking a stranger for money, but it was only a couple of yuans and he had every intention of paying her back later in the day. He tried to flatten his hair a little, grabbed a glass of juice, then walked over to her. 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he said. “I was wondering if—”

The woman spun, her golden eyes wide behind thin square glasses that, now that he thought about it, looked an awful lot like his own. “Iroh?”

“Mom?” 

Izumi launched into a bone-crushing hug that almost knocked Iroh off his feet. He felt orange juice slop down his arm and onto the floor. “Oh Agni, Iroh, I was so worried and Auntie K said she was doing everything she could but you wouldn’t wake up and—”

“Hey,” he said, finally recovering from his shock enough to hug her back, at least with the arm not holding the half-spilled juice. “Mom, it’s okay. What are you doing here?”

“—and it was so  _ deep _ this time and something about a chakra and I know you have Asami now and she’s hardly left your side this whole time but I just thought maybe if you had your  _ mother _ too it would help, that you’d finally wake up, and the talks are here anyway so it wasn’t even—”

_ “Mom.”  _ He gave Izumi a squeeze, then gently pushed her off him. It was a bit like prying a limpet off the side of a ship, but she eventually let him go. Her worried face stared up at him, and though she was smiling her eyes were filled with tears. Iroh bet he could count on one hand the number of people who had ever seen Firelord Izumi cry.

“Oh, honey, I was so scared,” she whispered. “You can’t do this to me.” Her thin hands went to his face, cupping his jaw, both thumbs running over his stubbled cheeks. Then she felt his forehead with the back of one hand before running her fingers through his hair. Iroh reached up to flatten it again. 

“I think I’m okay,” he said. “I promise. And… and I’m glad you’re here.” He suddenly pulled her into another hug. Izumi wrapped her arms around him tight, tucking her chin over his shoulder. He wasn’t entirely sure when she’d gotten so small. “It’s good to see you, Mom,” he mumbled into her hair. “I mean it.”

They stood like that for a moment, quietly, the need for talking over. I-mom had always been a lot like him in that way. Eventually she let him go, taking a half step back as she wiped her eyes under her glasses. Iroh felt the side of his mouth tick up into a smile. “Mom?” He waggled the glass hopefully. “Can you buy me some juice?”

Izumi blinked at him. Then her face darkened.  _ “IROH!”  _ she shouted, her smile vanishing in an instant.  _ “What are you doing buying juice?! There are buttons for that! Get back upstairs RIGHT NOW young man and don’t you DARE leave that bed until Auntie K says you can and not ONE MINUTE SOONER or I will have them KNOCK YOU OUT and TIE YOU IN IT!” _

Iroh fled before the wrath of the Lord of the Fire Nation, careful to grab a full glass of ice cold juice on his way out.


	100. IROH

“Well?” Iroh asked, closing the door of the bedroom behind him. He took a few steps forwards and stretched out one leg, then turned to the side, trying to strike a pose to hide his nervousness. He ran one hand quickly through his hair, even though he’d just combed it flat. “How do I look as a civilian?”

Asami looked up from where she’d been packing up some dishes. She had her hair back under a purple bandana and was wearing a tight blue tee with screwdriver on it and the words “Screw It” underneath, his retaliation for the “big boats” shirt she’d gotten him the year before. Iroh thought it all looked very cute. She put her hands on her hips, then made a show of looking him slowly up and down like she was picking out a treat from the bakery. He tried not to fidget. 

Asami licked the corner of her mouth, then bit down on her lower lip before releasing it with a faint pop. “Hot.” 

Iroh laughed. It was about as good a reaction as he could have hoped for. He’d spent nearly half a day at the tailor’s last week picking out a new wardrobe so he’d have something to wear besides t-shirts. But he’d spent half his life in his crimson and white uniform and it all felt a bit odd. In fact, the only time in perhaps the last five years he’d worn an outfit like this was when he’d gone with Mako to the Triple Threats, and that had just been cover. He’d always liked dressing well though, and his casual clothes had a subtle style about them that he took some pride in, even if Asami made fun of his tendency to wear too much black. But it wasn’t lost on him that his dark navy three-button suit, though stylish, was cut in a very similar fashion to a United Forces jacket. Old habits died hard. 

“I’ve never seen anyone from the Fire Nation in a blue suit though,” Asami said, looking him up and down again. “Let alone a member of the royal family.” She walked across the kitchen to him, then ran one hand slowly up his chest. Iroh’s smile broadened at her touch. It was funny how she always made him feel wanted, even when she didn’t have to. Asami smirked up at him with her big green eyes. “Are you sure they’ll still let you in?”

“I’m a third son,” Iroh said. “It’s probably high time I rebel. It’s practically required. Besides, I thought you liked the blue.”

Asami stretched up and planted a kiss on the end of his nose. “I do. You look very dashing. But I like you in lots of things.” She pulled at his sleeve. “And no things.”

“Thankfully, you’re the only one who gets to see that.”

Asami grinned. “And Katara, and quite a few other healers.” 

“Shut up.” Iroh knew it was a medical necessity and didn’t mean anything, but he was still uncomfortable with the image of Asami and Katara spending day after day bonding over his naked body in a healing tub. Of course he’d run all over Katara and Aang’s house stark naked as a child, but there were some things that you just didn’t want to think about, and your grandfather’s best friend bathing you while your future wife watched was definitely one of them. Especially since Katara had probably seen hundreds of men in similar circumstances. Iroh didn’t have any, er, particular concerns, but it wasn’t like he’d made a point of seeing how he stacked up and didn’t love the idea of Asami getting an education in comparative anatomy while he was unable to defend himself.

“Aren’t you going to have some kind of fancy prince outfit though?” Asami asked. She walked back to the kitchen and opened another cabinet, then pulled a series of bowls out onto the counter.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” Iroh strode over and reached up next to her to pull down the stack of fancy plates he kept on the highest shelf. “I just hope I can get to the palace before anyone makes it for me. I’ve spent most of my life wearing red in one form or another, but I’d like to have a least a little say in the fit.” Iroh felt his mood darken at the thought. “There’s not much else I’m going to have a say in.”

Asami seemed to catch the change in his voice. She turned and stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re going to look great,” she said. 

Iroh sighed, imagining the days filled with official meeting after official meeting, most of whose outcomes had already been determined, posing for a handshake and a photograph in between each one. Prince Iroh II, whose most important task was probably to be announced as such. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

***

Iroh swore. Why weren’t books all the same size? He didn’t have all that many, after all. It would be silly to split them up between different boxes. But try as he might, they didn’t seem to want to all fit in the one that he had, either. It was like a puzzle, and one he knew he was spending entirely too much time on. 

“You’re still doing that?” Asami asked. She walked over from where she’d been packing up the last of the kitchen, wiping her hands against her pants. 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Iroh took the three books that hadn’t fit out of the box, then stood and put them back on the shelf for now. He’d changed back into jeans and a t-shirt, his new suits and shirts carefully packed with any other clothing he wouldn’t need on the journey. He looked around the bright apartment littered with boxes and tried to smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had more than a duffel bag to pack. I didn’t realize how many things a person can get when they stay still.”

Asami walked over and put a hand on his arm. “Just wait until we go pack up a mansion.” They weren’t really packing the estate, of course. After all, Asami would still be spending half her time in Republic City. But they planned to go through it this weekend to get anything that she wanted to take with them to the Fire Nation, as well as put to bed whatever she wouldn’t be using for the next month. Asami hardly spent any time there anyway, so it wouldn’t be that hard, but there were a few big things, like draining the pool, that would be a bit of a pain.

It was the best arrangement that they’d been able to come up with. Technically unemployed, and with nothing to do in Republic City, Iroh had been asked to come home and step into more of his role in the royal family. After all, Prince Iroh II wasn’t exactly the kind of person who could walk into Flameo’s Fire Grill and ask for a job waiting tables. There were plenty of official duties to share back in the Fire Nation, and having him around to represent I-mom would take some of the pressure off of both her and his siblings. It was something he’d been avoiding most of his life but, realistically, was probably long overdue. Yet Asami still had Future Industries, not to mention a whole life in Republic City, and Iroh hadn’t been willing to force her to give that up, even though she’d offered. 

In the end they’d decided she’d turn her extended leave from the RCCC into a permanent one, then spend every other month with him in the Fire Nation. Somewhat reluctantly, he and Asami had also decided to postpone the wedding. Iroh was no less committed to that outcome, but planning a royal wedding on top of a move, a new role, and Asami sorting through her own future was too much for either of them. The whole idea of changing from a life as Asami’s husband to one where he barely saw her half the time made Iroh depressed, but what else could they do? He had promised himself that he’d live a life with meaning, but had been forced to admit that, without the United Forces, the options for doing so in keeping with his station were extremely limited.

And when he wasn’t being grumpy about it, Iroh acknowledged that not all of it would be tedium. There were some areas, like foreign policy and military affairs, where Iroh’s experience would be a big asset compared to Kaz or Mat, and he might actually be able to do some good. Though they’d both done their time in the army in keeping with royal traditions, neither of his brothers had pursued life outside the Fire Nation with much gusto. Kazai might cut a dashing figure in his Field Marshal’s uniform, and Matsu could make friends with anybody, but neither of them had the kind of patience or genuine interest that had always made Iroh a favorite with his country’s ambassadors abroad.

Besides, he was even somewhat famous now. Though Firelord Izumi had offered both the crown prince and herself as mediators between the Earth Kingdom and SWE, apparently the Southwest Earth Kingdom delegation had insisted on Iroh, saying that he was the only one they trusted enough to play the role. It had meant a rather delayed start to the peace process, but as they’d appointed Kjyn as their new Speaker and she’d also spent a few weeks recovering from her injuries, it hadn’t been much of an issue to wait for Iroh as well.

To his shock he’d learned that he’d lain in the healing center at Zaofu for 13 days before he’d finally woken up, and it had been another three weeks before he’d been grudgingly discharged. The road to recovery had been a long and frustrating one, not in the least because he’d had both his mother and Katara hounding him about it, even after they’d both left the city. Asami wasn’t much better, to be honest, but every once in a while she’d smuggle him something that didn’t taste like cafeteria food—between his captivity in SWE and the hospital he’d lost nearly 30lbs—and twice she’d even snuck him outside for walks through the moonlit city. She knew how hard it was for him to sit still.

Iroh had been pleasantly surprised to learn that Korra, Mako, Bolin, and Opal had all remained in Zaofu. Korra, like Iroh, would be serving as a neutral party in her role as the Avatar, and in the meantime was learning metalbending from Opal’s mother. Chief Beifong had assigned Mako to be her personal bodyguard while in the Earth Kingdom, a position that seemed neither wise nor necessary given their history but which surprisingly neither he nor Korra had complained about. Opal had taken the opportunity to visit her family, and Bolin, having far less success at metalbending than Korra, had mostly taken the time to visit Opal. Asami, after a brief trip back to Republic City, had insisted on staying as well. Iroh hadn’t fought her with any real enthusiasm. Instead, once he’d left the healing center they’d been offered two discretely adjoining rooms on the third floor of the Beifong estate for the duration of the talks. It was all rather silly, as no one from the Firelord on down believed they weren’t sleeping together, but as Mako, Korra, Opal, and Bolin all had their own rooms as well it was probably just to be even-handed to the young people. Iroh often wondered if anyone else’s rooms had secret doors between, but had stopped short of asking Bolin once they’d decided to start up running together. It wasn’t really his business.

Eventually Iroh and Kjyn had both been well enough to kick off the peace talks in earnest. After all, it was mostly sitting. The Earth Queen, noting that Iroh was only a third son and Kjyn no one at all, had sent the crown prince, Prince Wu, to represent the Earth Kingdom. Prince Wu might have had the highest rank among the parties, but arguably contributed the least to the process. Wu had a good heart but a short attention span, and like many born to privilege didn’t quite understand not getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it. For example, Iroh had found it necessary to tell him several times that “that gorgeous Sato woman” was neither interested nor available. It had finally taken Wu walking in on some rather enthusiastic kissing in an empty dining room for the idea to sink in, and even then he’d spent the rest of the day muttering about “betrayal” every time Iroh got too close. However, these same traits, while obnoxious, let Iroh have a rather heavy hand in the negotiations in a way that he might not have if Queen Hou-Ting had deigned to come herself. 

It had turned out that Iroh _was_ good at politics—the real kind, not the internal ladder-climbing and social positioning of places like United Forces high command or the court of the Fire Nation. Ultimately, it was agreed that Southwest Earth Kingdom would become a temporary protectorate of the Earth Kingdom for 50 years, after which time it would separate permanently if confirmed by local referendum. They would have their own governing, military, and legal bodies, effective immediately, and be a distinct jurisdiction in both public and private law. However, the arrangement allowed SWE to maintain the benefit of the diplomatic and economic union with the larger kingdom as they worked to diversify their economy and develop their own international agreements. From what he knew about history, Iroh had worried that pulling out too soon, with no major industry besides mining, would make an already bad situation dire. The Earth Kingdom, in return, would become a preferential—though no longer exploitative—trade partner, be able to freely use SWE waters for shipping, and access heavily discounted leasing agreements for use of its many harbors. They would also maintain freedom of movement between the two countries. It was a deal that left neither party particularly satisfied, which was how Iroh knew it was probably a good one. 

Prince Wu, once he’d given up on Asami to chase Korra, and therefore forgiven Iroh, had been all for it. Korra had as well—at the end of another three weeks, Iroh thought anything that got her away from Wu would have been acceptable. Queen Hou-Ting was less enthused, but Izumi had mollified her considerably when she’d proposed giving Wu, along with Iroh, Korra, and Kjyn, the Aang Medal of Peace for their roles in the proceedings. The young prince, being rather without accolades, could apparently use all of the international credibility he could get, and the Earth Queen had jumped at the opportunity to raise the profile of her nephew. The four of them had had to travel all the way to Ba Sing Se so that Hou-Ting could give the awards herself, but it had meant that Iroh’s treaties had held. Ultimately it was a small sacrifice, and it had even given him an excuse to splurge a little. Ba Sing Se had some of the world’s best tea shops.

About the only thing that hadn't gone well were his dealings with the United Forces. Having no formal standing, and with President Raiko at the helm, he found he had no influence at all. His resignation had been accepted—Iroh couldn't have in good conscience have played his role in the peace talks while still a general, even if he had toyed with the idea that no one from the UF had heard him resign—and as such no one had to pay him any mind. All that was to be expected, but it had also meant that he hadn't been able to beg leniency for Cuzon or the other deserters. They were found guilty of treason, the sentence being death. So long as they stayed in SWE they were probably fine, but none of them could ever again set foot outside the territory without being extradited back to the United Republic. He supposed it a fitting reward that those who had put country above everything else, even innocent lives, were now forced to stay there forever.

It wasn’t until Iroh was back in Republic City that his new reality had sunk in. He was no longer with the United Forces at all, let alone head of Republic City Central Command. In fact, he wasn’t anything. He’d wake up with the sun in his little apartment, give Asami butterfly kisses until she swatted him away with a groan, then have some combination of exercise, tea, breakfast, shower, and sex. Not a bad way to start the day by any means, but after Asami left for Future Industries the hours began to stretch. It wasn’t that Iroh couldn’t amuse himself. He’d walked, then run, all over the city, caught up with a few friends who didn’t have daytime obligations, read quite a bit, and finally taken the time to explore Republic City’s many museums. He was also most of the way back in shape, having been able to use the long days to take a slow and deliberate approach to building back muscle. But even though Iroh generally liked his own company, after a while it seemed less and less enjoyable, and more like he was marking time. He also realized that the time before Asami, before the RCCC and his friends in Team Avatar, had perhaps been a bit of a lonely one. He simply hadn’t known any better.

Iroh didn’t need to work—there was plenty of money between him and Asami—but he knew himself well enough to know not working long term was a bad idea. It wasn’t only that he felt a certain shame in being nothing more than yet another idle rich man, or that the long days left him increasingly isolated. He simply had too much energy not to do anything with it. The times when he didn’t, it wasn’t good, and as the days dragged on Iroh saw the signs. He was moody and high-strung, and he had trouble focusing. He could still work out or firebend to blow off steam, and there were always books and pet projects, but at some point if he didn’t have a problem or a purpose to anchor him he started to spin. Asami helped a lot, but even so, he knew he couldn’t do nothing forever.

So it was that when his mothers had asked him to come home, Iroh had agreed. It wasn’t what he wanted, but when pressed he couldn’t think of an even passable excuse why he couldn’t go. He had loved his time in Republic City, his apartment, his friends, his favorite restaurants, but Iroh hadn’t lived in the Fire Nation in nearly a decade. Maybe a change of scene would be good after all? There would be plenty to discover in Caldera, and he’d be helping his family besides. By every logical metric it was an easy decision, even if it made things harder for him and Asami. Which was why Iroh was trying to pack up his books. Trying, and failing. They were just books; why was it so hard? It was almost like, despite all the logic in the world, his heart wasn’t in it.

Asami, perhaps seeing his expression, squeezed his arm a little. “Let’s take a break,” she said. She walked over and flopped down on the green couch with a sigh. She looked tired. Iroh snuggled in next to her, suddenly heavy with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with having spent the day packing. He rested his head against her chest and threw arm around her stomach. He felt Asami’s fingers run through his hair in the way that always relaxed him and he hugged her tight. They lay like that, just comfortable, listening to the steady rain outside. The only other sound was the burbling of Ling’s filter; Iroh still wasn’t exactly sure if one could pack up a fish tank, and had planned to go back to the pet store tomorrow to ask for advice. 

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Asami said quietly. 

“Yes, I do.” _And I bet I go crazy inside of six months,_ he added privately. Iroh forced himself to look up at Asami then, to check her face for some trace of disappointment. But amazingly he saw only concern, and love. She really was incredible. He was upending her life as much, or more, than his own. Yet here she was, worried about him.

“No, Iroh, you don’t,” she said firmly, her brows knitting together. “Katara said some things to me, things about how you’ve been before, that I didn’t much like the sound of. Sometimes we have to do stuff that’s hard, but I don’t want you getting to a point where you’re just, I dunno, phoning in your life. It’s not fair to either of us. I don’t know your family well, but I do know how much they love you. If you told them that you were happy here, and that you really didn’t want to go, they’d hear you out.”

“We’ve been through this,” Iroh said tiredly. He had a feeling he knew what Katara was talking about, and it had been a totally different situation. Probably. He also didn’t love that she’d told Asami about any of his past relationships. There weren’t any secrets, and hell they’d probably meet in Caldera anyway, but it still struck him as a little invasive. “I love them, too,” he continued. “I want to help, and it’s probably past time that I do. I’m not phoning it in, I promise. I can do some good there. And I can’t just sit here. I’d be no good to anyone, least of all you.” 

“Maybe Ambassador Hamada—”

“No, Asami. It’s too junior for someone like me. I’d learn a ton for sure, but a prince can’t report to an ambassador, even one as well-respected as Iron Hamada. It would be an embarrassment.” Iroh let out a frustrated breath. It had been a long time since he’d felt so trapped by his title.

“And you’re sure you won’t consider Korra’s offer?” 

“Yes. It was very kind of her, and it’s a brilliant concept, but I’m not the right person.” Korra had offered to take Iroh on as a kind of diplomacy master, playing the role that Tenzin and Katara had in her bending training but for the kinds of things Iroh excelled at: strategy, tactics, history, geography, negotiating, reading a room full of strangers, etc. He knew he could do those things, but had ultimately decided that trying to teach Korra would strain their friendship too much—they were both incredibly stubborn. A part of him also remembered the look of pain on Asami’s face when he’d told her how he’d kissed Korra in SWE. He didn’t believe for a second she doubted his story that it was part of deceiving Jashan, but Iroh never, ever wanted to give her a reason to doubt him. Lots of time alone with Korra, however innocent, might make someone with a history of firebender boyfriends kissing the Avatar see things that weren’t there. It wasn’t worth it.

“Iroh,” Asami said quietly. She continued to stroke his hair. “Just don’t forget how fragile it all is. Life. It’s too short to be unhappy on purpose.”

***

Iroh awoke with a start to a knock at the door. He must have dozed off. From the sleepy murmurs he heard, Asami probably had as well. 

“I’ll get it,” he muttered. He untangled himself from where he’d apparently been giving her a full-body hug and stood, smoothing down his shirt and attempting to be somewhat presentable. He wasn’t expecting anybody, and at any rate it was mid-afternoon on a Wednesday. Hardly a time for friends to drop by. 

Yet when Iroh opened the door, a friend was exactly what he found. To his surprise Mako stood on his doorstep in his police officer’s uniform. He looked tense, even for Mako, who was always a bit rigid anyway. He wasn’t smiling.

“Hi. Everything okay? I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Prince Iroh,” Mako said. Iroh froze. _Prince Iroh?_ Since when was he Prince Iroh to Mako? “Is anyone else here with you?”

“Just Asami. Mako, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to need to come in and check that.”

Iroh put his arm across the doorframe. This was getting weird. “No, you’re not. Not until you tell me what this is all about.” 

“Security sweep,” Mako said. “You have a visitor.” He dropped his voice. “Please.”

“What’s going on?” Asami called from behind him. He heard her walking across the floor, but his eyes never left Mako for a second.

“I don’t know,” Iroh said, at the same time Mako repeated, “Security sweep.”

“Iroh has a visitor with Class 5 clearance," he continued. "I’m advance. I need to make sure the apartment is secure."

“Let him in,” said Asami. Iroh felt her hands on his shoulders and let himself be pulled away from the door. “Come on in, Mako," she said over his shoulder. 

Iroh moved his arm aside and Mako entered. He said nothing, just walked room to room, starting in the end of the living room and working his way back. Then he ducked across the kitchen and into the hallway. Iroh heard his bedroom door open, then close again, and ground his teeth. He liked his privacy. Mako popped back to the kitchen a moment later, seemingly satisfied. He strode to the door and leaned out, calling to someone down the hallway.

“Clear.” A long moment passed, then another.

In walked President Raiko.


	101. ASAMI

President Raiko? Visit _them?_ Asami wouldn’t have been more surprised had her own father shown up at the door, even with Mako’s odd behavior. Come to think of it, Raiko even looked a little like her father. The same round glasses and square features, similar fluffy mustache, both taller than average but broad and blocky, with sharp, intelligent eyes. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe one day they could share a cell. A girl could dream.

Asami stood just behind Iroh in the kitchen, one hand still on his warm shoulder. A part of her was glad to have that solid presence between her and the president. She had never forgiven Raiko for Iroh’s last deployment, which to her had been a blatantly personal attempt to use him as a scapegoat to get the RCCC out of the news. Iroh could have been killed. He nearly _had_ been killed. Yet despite having placed both him and herself at the top of the RCCC willingly, and everything they had accomplished in President Raiko’s name for the city, ultimately their health and happiness had been worth no more to him than few points on a poll. In addition to everything else, Raiko had been one of the few world leaders who hadn’t checked up on Iroh personally during his weeks in Zaofu, despite the fact that Iroh had reported to him directly for two years. Even Desna of the Northern Water Tribe, who Iroh had never formally met, had sent a card with their personal seal. 

Iroh himself had gone completely rigid at the president’s entrance. Asami didn’t know anyone Iroh thought less of, and that included people like Viper, whom he said at least had convictions. He cared less about what had happened to him than probably Asami did, but she knew he blamed Raiko for pushing the disastrous invasion in the first place and, therefore, for the hundreds of United Forces casualties. 

“Mr. President,” said Mako, breaking the awkward silence. No one else spoke. Then there was a soft squeak and Lt. Iameh appeared in the doorway. Her long dark hair was back in her usual severe bun, a mix of curiosity and concern on her face.

“Sir,” she said, clearly meaning Iroh and not Raiko. Iroh stepped forwards, then dropped to one knee beside her chair to wrap her in a hug. It was more than he usually did, but as far as Asami knew he’d only seen her once since they’d been back in Republic City. 

“Just Iroh to my friends,” he said. “None of this ‘sir’ stuff anymore.” Iameh smiled over his shoulder and hugged him back.

“Good to see you, Just Iroh.”

“You’re terrible,” Iroh said, pulling back. He got to his feet. “What’s all this about?”

President Raiko cleared his throat. “If you stopped ignoring me, I’d tell you. I assure you, Iroh, I have no more desire to be here than you apparently have to welcome me.” 

“I believe he said he’s Iroh to his friends,” Asami said, before she could stop herself. Iameh bit hard on her lower lip to stifle a smile. Mako looked shocked, his mouth forming an unconscious “o” of surprise.

Raiko narrowed his eyes, his face reddening, but didn’t respond. Instead he glanced down at Lt. Iameh, then back at Iroh. “But I’m to understand that repeated attempts to summon you to my office have been unsuccessful.”

“I’ve been busy,” Iroh said, his back still to Asami. “I don’t report to you, nor am I a citizen of the Republic. You can’t so much summon me across the street.” His tone was light, almost conversational, but Asami knew better. It was entirely different then the genuine regard with which he’d addressed Iameh. Every syllable thrummed with anger. Asami put her hand on his taut shoulder again. Just in case. 

“Busy?” Raiko asked, deciding to ignore the dig. “You’re unemployed.”

“I am,” Iroh said slowly. His voice had dropped a little. Asami tightened her grip on his shoulder. “How many did you go to?”

“Excuse me?” said Raiko, frowning. He had clearly come expecting to do the talking. “How many what?”

“Funerals,” Iroh said. “There were 287 deaths among the United Forces during the SWE invasion and after. It’s the biggest loss of life in the Forces’ history. And I wanted to know. How many did you go to?” The three weeks of funerals had been the most down Asami had ever seen Iroh, and he’d briefly started having nightmares again. It had also been the last time he’d worn a uniform. He’d tried to put on a brave face, saying it was technically inappropriate but necessary symbolism, but she’d walked in on him knotting his red and white collar in the bathroom, silent tears running down his cheeks. She understood. The United Forces had been Iroh’s second family. When it came to losing family, Asami was a pro.

“That’s hardly—” Raiko started.

Iroh continued as if he hadn’t spoken, his voice growing harder with every word. “I went to every service that I could. Sometimes five a day. Because I was their commander, and their sacrifice meant something to me, and to the Forces. But I never saw you. Not once. Not one goddamn time that wasn’t for photographs. So yes, I’ve been busy. My question is, why haven't you?” 

President Raiko’s face darkened into a scowl. “Just because you’re soft, doesn’t—

Asami shoved Iroh out of the way, took two big steps, and swung with all her might, four years of kickboxing training driving her arm in a short, hard burst. Her fist connected with Raiko’s nose in a satisfying crunch. The president yelped and reeled back, slamming into the wall beside the door. He swore and grabbed his bleeding nose just as Asami felt Iroh wrap his arms around her from behind.

“You fucking asshole, how _dare_ you?” she shouted at Raiko, kicking and wiggling as Iroh actually lifted her off the ground, pulling her back across the kitchen. 

At this point a shocked Mako sprang into action. He rushed forwards and threw himself in front of Raiko as the other man sputtered and cursed, eyes wide, one hand still cradling his streaming nose. Iameh just sat there, looking stunned.

“Fuck, Asami, what the hell?” Mako hissed, swinging his head back and forth between her and Raiko. 

“Don’t you _dare_ call him soft you _stupid,_ you _spineless_ fucking _fuck!_ ” Asami continued to shout, struggling against Iroh. At that moment all she wanted was to pummel Raiko’s face into so much red gelatin. 

“Shit, that’s technically assault, and I’m standing right here.” 

“Not now, Mako,” Iroh snapped. He pulled her tighter and whispered in her ear as he continued to drag her back. “Hey. Hey, calm down, it’s okay.” 

“It is not okay, he’s in our _home,_ Iroh, this is our _home_ and he—”

“I know,” he said soothingly. “I know, and it’s a really nice home, and he’s going to be leaving it.” Slowly Asami stopped struggling. She felt Iroh move his head to look at Raiko. “Isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.

“As soon as possible.” The president’s voice was oddly muffled, as if he was speaking underwater. She’d probably broken his nose. “Believe it or not, this was not a social call.”

Asami looked up to see Raiko glaring at her, the left side of his glasses askew. As she watched, a single drop of blood dripped out from beneath his hand and splattered on the tile floor, followed by a second.

“Here,” Iroh said, finally releasing her. He jogged to the bathroom and returned with a fistfull of toilet paper. The bathroom had tissues as well, but he’d walked past them to grab toilet paper all the same. Spirits, how she loved him. He handed the wad to Raiko, who missed the symbolism entirely. He wiped his hand before pressing the bloody paper to his face. 

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“I suggest you go put some ice on that,” Iroh said coldly. “Which means you’d better be quick. Say what you came to say.” 

President Raiko wiped at his nose again, then did his best to straighten his bent glasses. “Fine,” he said in his nasal voice. “I have a problem, and before I was assaulted by Miss Sato I thought that I had a solution.” He coughed, as if unsure how to continue. Finally he reached the hand that wasn’t holding the toilet paper into his long purple coat and pulled out a newspaper. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at Iroh. 

Iroh took it carefully, holding it up so they both could read it. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, this morning’s copy of the _Republic City Press,_ folded open to the Style section. 

HERO OF SWE SENT PACKING

Prince Iroh II of the Fire Nation, the former General of the United Forces, was spotted doing much more humble service yesterday as he carried a single box of his possessions out of the headquarters of Republic City Central Command (RCCC). Four months after he was grievously wounded in the southern Earth Kingdom, and less than a month following his receipt of the Aang Medal for Peace for his efforts, President Raiko continues to turn his back on the valiant commander. It appears the rumors that Prince Iroh, along with his fiancée, brilliant industrialist and former RCCC Civilian Liaison Asami Sato, is returning to the Fire Nation are sadly confirmed.

Prince Iroh, the youngest General of the United Forces in history, has not once, but twice led the successful defense of Republic City alongside the Avatar, a close personal friend. Yet forced to choose between leading the recent Southwest Earth Kingdom (SWE) peace talks on behalf of the Fire Nation and his official role with the United Republic, which declined to participate, the decorated general resigned his commission...

The rest of the article continued in a similar vein, recapping many of the recent events surrounding SWE and Iroh’s departure from the United Forces. The accompanying picture showed Iroh shouldering his way out of the front door of City Hall, his arms wrapped around a cardboard box, a look of grim resignation on his face. 

“Your problem is that I finally got around to cleaning out my office?” Iroh said, handing the paper back to Raiko. “I phoned weeks ago and was told it wasn’t an issue to wait as no one was using it.”

“I had nothing to do with your office! Fucking spirits, Iroh, do you really…” Raiko glanced at Asami and trailed off, perhaps thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Nevermind. No, that is not the problem. The problem is the article. And the two dozen just like it that have been running for weeks now. It seems like every damn day it’s, ‘Who Will Protect Us Now?’ or ‘RCCC Beheaded’ or ‘Raiko’s Generally Bad Decision.’ That was the worst pun of the lot, but not any less scathing for it. You fucking quit, and I’m being hung for it.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Iroh said honestly. Asami hadn’t either. After the pressure they’d been put under last spring neither of them got the _Press,_ and what news they did read certainly wasn’t under Style. 

Asami raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a point?”

Raiko ground his teeth, then winced a little as the motion pulled on his nose. Asami hoped it hurt. “I’ll put this bluntly. Though I continue to be baffled, it turns out Iroh is extremely popular. He always was, but more so now after this whole Earth Kingdom debacle. You both are. And some… elements, let’s say… within the United Forces and also abroad are under the impression that I gave him a choice between executing an invasion against his better judgement and putting him on trial, thus forcing the resignation.”

“You did,” Iroh said. Iameh’s face hardened. She must know Iroh wouldn’t lie.

“No, I didn’t. I gave you an order as the commander in chief, you hung up on me, then went to go get yourself killed. Twice.” Asami glared at him. The _nerve…_ Iroh turned and quickly gave her a warning look, almost as if he could read her thoughts. She made herself relax. He was right. Punching Raiko again could get her arrested, if it hadn’t already.

“But the story persists,” Raiko continued. “Then to wind up at that healing center, plus receiving the Aang medal, just before you’re quite visibly packing your office? Well, you can see how it reads in the papers. It’s not good.”

“I’m not asking for anyone’s pity, Raiko,” Iroh said. “Least of all the _Press._ What I did, I did for me, nothing more. But if you’re looking for me to apologize for inconveniencing you, either to your face or in the papers, I’m not going to do it. Neither is Asami.”

“Speaking of Miss Sato.” The president sighed and dabbed gently at his nose. “It seems that without your leadership, progress on city reconstruction has stalled almost entirely. Col. Zemin is very experienced, of course—I would not have appointed him otherwise—but his solutions to the lingering problems in our city, clearing the spirit vines and such, are not, let’s say, quite as popular as yours, either among city officials or residents. We’ve gotten complaints. A lot of them.”

“Col. Zemin was quartermaster general,” Asami said furiously. “What did you expect? Supplies planning and city planning share the word ‘planning,’ but that’s about it. Besides, he’s a moron.”

Mako just stared at her. He had said nothing at all the past few minutes, just stood there with a troubled look on his face like he’d been tasked with preventing something he didn’t quite understand.

“Asami,” Iroh sighed. She probably shouldn’t have been that direct, but she was still so angry. And some of it was probably unfair. Going from working with the smart, handsome love of your life to working with a pompous, balding professional bureaucrat was always going to be a downgrade. 

Raiko seemed nonplussed. Asami had made no secret of her dislike for Iroh’s replacement during the brief time they had been forced to work together. “At any rate, Miss Sato, there are complaints, and the search for a new Civilian Liaison isn’t turning up very many qualified candidates. On top of all that, it turns out that you’re…” Raiko trailed off, his brows knitting together as if the next words caused him physical pain. “Goddamn it, it turns out you’re popular. Both of you, together. Neither of you were here, but you should have seen the coverage the city got when your engagement was announced. Stories like ‘Love in the Time of Duty’ and ‘The RCCC’s Fairytale Romance’ and ‘The Prince and the President’ were all over the _Press_ for weeks.”

Asami glanced at Iroh. He seemed as baffled as she was, so apparently he hadn’t seen those articles any more than he’d seen the more recent ones about his departure. If anything, she'd been under the impression that the president of Future Industries dating the General of the United Forces made more people nervous than happy. Perhaps they really should read page six more often, if only to make sure they weren’t in it.

“What’s your point?” Iroh asked. “We’ve already said we could care less what’s in the papers. I’m not marrying Asami for the coverage. In fact, I have every intention of placing armed guards outside to keep them out when we finally manage a wedding.” She could see his face fall a little at that. Postponing the wedding indefinitely had been one of the harder decisions, but with everything else Iroh had going on Asami couldn’t let herself add any more pressure. She’d marry him today if he asked, just march down to City Hall right now in their sweaty t-shirts, but she knew he wanted his family and a sense of occasion. If Iroh could wait, so could she.

“My fucking point is that this is a fucking disaster,” Raiko spat. “Are you even listening? The whole SWE thing was supposed to _boost_ my administration, not tank it, but thanks to you both that’s exactly what’s happening, even though we won.”

 _Won?_ Asami wasn’t quite sure what world Raiko was living in. The United Forces had withdrawn with historic losses, and the United Republic had not participated in the peace talks.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Iroh said. He took a step forward and she saw Mako tense. “You’ve said quite enough, Mr. President. I have plenty of failings, believe me. I won’t carry yours.”

Raiko, to his credit, stood his ground. He dabbed his swollen nose again, then said, “You’re not listening, Iroh. It seems losing you to the Fire Nation isn’t going over well. I need you. Both of you. I had a long conversation with Firelord Izumi earlier, and we agreed that, if you’re willing, I could, um, unaccept your resignations.”

For a moment Asami just stared at him. “Is that even a thing?” she asked finally. Iroh remained perfectly still beside her. 

“There is some precedent,” Raiko said. “For you, Miss Sato, it’s fairly straightforward. I appointed you. I can simply appoint you again. There’s little doubt you’d be reconfirmed, and neither of us need mention our”—he waved his free hand over his face—“disagreement.” He turned to Mako. “Is that clear, Detective?” Mako nodded, looking slightly bewildered.

“And Iroh?” Asami asked. 

“Reinstated,” Iroh said softly. His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Yes, some legal bullshit like that,” Raiko confirmed. “It’s not common, but you left on good terms. Everything will go back to the way it was, full rank, RCCC, all of it. That’s why I brought Lt. Iameh along. She can help with the transition back.”

“Iroh, that’s—” Asami gasped.

“No,” he said. She froze, too stunned to speak. _No?_ President Raiko might be a righteous asshole, but he was giving them their lives back. They could stay in Republic City, keep the apartment, get married; it was everything she knew he wanted, they both wanted. And they wouldn’t have to spend every other month apart, either; 182 more nights where Asami could fall asleep next to Iroh instead of shivering alone with only his pillow for company. 

“No?” Raiko asked. Behind him, Lt. Iameh’s face had gone rigid.

“Not without conditions,” Iroh said. He turned to Asami. “Trust me?” he said quietly. She nodded numbly. She had no choice.

 _“Conditions,"_ Raiko scoffed. “I’m offering you General of the United Forces and RC Command again, the Firelord has agreed to let you accept, and you’re giving me conditions?”

Iroh glanced around the house. “We’re mostly packed. If you want us to unpack, we have conditions. Leaving is the path of least resistance. It’s not like either of us have to work. Between us we could probably buy half the Republic. So yes, there are conditions.”

“Fine. Name them.”

“Asami and I don’t report to you.”

Raiko sputtered. “What?! That’s impossible. I’m—”

“A terrible commander, that’s what you are,” said Iroh, his voice firm. “You don’t give a shit about the United Forces, and you know even less. As much as I hate to admit it, the world needs politicians. But I will never, ever be put in a situation again where my commanding officer is able take unilateral action without heeding the advice of anyone besides his enormous ego and the fucking _Republic City Press._ Am I clear?”

President Raiko’s face had by this point turned a deep shade of red. Iroh shook his head. “I’m not sure what it looks like yet, maybe some kind of security council or something, but I’ll not be threatened with court-martial every time I have a conscience simply because you have none. That’s no way to run an army, and I’ll not be part of it otherwise. Same with Asami. No more threatening Future Industries every time you disagree. We don’t expect a free hand, but we’re not going to hurt anyone. Second condition—” 

“There’s more?” Raiko choked. The president’s face was almost purple now.

“Second condition,” Iroh continued. “You never go around me again. What you pulled with Cuzon, cutting me out of the chain of command. That never happens. There’s no way to structurally enforce that, I don’t think, so I’ll have to have your word on it. If I find out about it, I walk, and you’re not going to like the place I walk to. I bet they’d love an exclusive interview.”

“Third condition,” Asami said. Iroh and Raiko both looked at her. “What? I don’t get any?”

The president sighed. “Please. Enlighten me.”

“We both get a raise and a vacation, and I get a chief of staff.”

“A _what?_ And you’ve both been out for months. And that’s three things, not one.”

“A vacation, Raiko, not a hospital stay. A couple of weeks. No contact, no press. Surely Col. Zemin can manage a few more weeks without burning the place down? And Iroh and I were always equivalent rank, but he has Lt. Iameh. I want someone as well. And you need us more than we need you, which is always the perfect time to ask for a raise.”

President Raiko rubbed at his forehead and said something even Iroh’s sailors wouldn’t repeat. “Are you done yet?”

Iroh looked at her, the barest hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. It was so slight that if you didn’t know him well you might miss it. But his laughing golden eyes, well. Those were another matter entirely.


	102. EPILOGUE: IROH

Iroh brushed the sand off his hands and stood to survey his work. That… wasn’t bad. He was no architect, not by any means, but the firebending experiments he’d been doing all year had definitely paid off. It wasn’t huge, only about 5x5, but it had still taken hours to dig out with nothing but a camping shovel. And that had been the easy part.

“Can I look yet?” Asami called from down the beach. 

“No! Almost done, I promise.” He’d deliberately set up near some rock pools high on the beach, close enough that it was an easy walk back and forth to the tent but far enough that Asami couldn’t quite see what he was up to. He’d been up here off and on for a couple of days and, as far as he knew, she’d resisted the temptation to peek. Iroh wanted it to be a surprise. Every so often he’d jog back, his skin glistening with sweat, to grab a drink or a snack and a quick kiss from where Asami had mostly been reading or doing puzzles under their enormous umbrella. They’d done plenty of things together, of course, but she hadn’t seemed to mind if he had a bit of a project as well. But he’d told her this morning he was almost done. It was either finish up now or wait until after lunch.

Iroh took another careful look around, checking one last time that he’d smoothed out any jagged edges. Then he walked around the edge of the hole and over to the closest pool. The beach was mostly soft white sand, but at a few places near the cliffs the wind and pounding surf had carved caves and eddys into the pale sandstone underneath. Iroh and Asami had both found them fascinating, and had spent their first few days on the beach exploring some of the sea caves and poking at the unfamiliar critters in the weedy rock pools. There was so much life here if one stopped to look. At one point Asami had found a fire crab almost as big as Pabu, and they’d spent the rest of the day trying to think of a way to get close enough to catch it and make it for dinner. In the end they’d settled for boiled dumplings from their supplies, Iroh still nursing the burns on the ends of his fingers.

But all that meant that he hadn’t wanted to repurpose one of the pools. It wasn’t just about accidentally sitting on a fire crab, either. Those creatures belonged here; he and Asami were only guests and, while that didn’t stop them from the occasional seafood dinner, Iroh thought it important to be respectful. Thus, his project. He knelt down and removed a large rock that he’d set in front of the shallow channel he’d dug in the sand, then carefully glazed. Ice cold water began to drain from the pool into the channel, then into the hole. Iroh grinned. So far, so good. 

They were, as far as he knew, SWE’s first tourists. Iroh had paid what was probably an excesive sum to rent the entirety of the sheltered beach, a place where in all likelihood no one would have found them anyway. It was the principle of the thing though, and at least this way the local residents were well-compensated not to talk, and they were unlikely to get any surprises. Iroh didn’t really think any photographers would have followed them all the way here, especially as the Firelord’s formal announcement of their engagement was old news by now, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. The same went for small fishing boats, would-be robbers, or anyone else. He and Asami did a lot of things in the soft sand of the beach that neither of them wanted viewed, let alone interrupted.

What they gained in solitude, however, they lost in infrastructure. There were no hotels, few restaurants, and little in the way of supplies or entertainment. After they’d had a home-cooked dinner with Kjyn, Illea, Cuzon, and a short, friendly woman he’d introduced as Lai shortly after landing, they’d been entirely on their own. All of this was just fine with Iroh. After all, he’d first fallen in love with Asami while camping, and recreating some of that experience while adding a lot of new things, like actually getting to kiss her beside the roaring campfire instead of just dreaming about it, had been a lot of fun. And Asami, for all her rich upbringing, was just as resourceful and game to rough it as he was. Which had, of course, been one of the first things he’d liked about her. She might look like a mover star, but a delicate flower she was not.

But it also meant that he’d had to get creative. Iroh crouched down again, then lay flat on his chest in the sand to reach one arm into the wide hole he’d dug. The water was now about halfway filled. He’d dug deep, so that meant it was only up to his wrist, but that was enough. Iroh breathed in, ignoring the numbing cold in his hand and instead concentrating on the fire inside him. Then he breathed out, and as he did he released a steady stream of fire into the water. It wasn’t his hottest flame, not by a long shot, but it was something he knew he could keep up for several minutes. Soon the water was steaming. It was like a big teacup. Iroh smiled and replaced the rock blocking the channel to keep more cold water from coming in, then stood. 

He tried to brush as much sand as he could off himself, then jogged back to where they’d set up camp. He found Asami lying on her stomach under a big green umbrella. Her shoulders were getting pink again. How was that even possible? They were both relatively fair, but over the past week Iroh had tanned to a deep golden brown while Asami waged a nearly continuous battle against the strong southern sun. Her cheeks, shoulders and chest were always in danger of burning, and the tiny dusting of freckles across her nose had darkened and spread in a way that Iroh found sexy and Asami infuriating. As a result she required frequent applications of suntan lotion, a situation that happily seemed to require Iroh’s hands on her bare skin far more often, and more extensively, than was strictly necessary. 

Asami didn’t turn. She seemed completely absorbed in the book that was propped open in front of her on the blanket. That would be one of her sci-fi thrillers, probably. Iroh had never completely understood the appeal of reading something with so many lasers and tentacles it gave you nightmares, but if it made her want to snuggle closer once it got dark he wasn’t complaining. He himself was reading a book his sister had gotten him that seemed to be about the adventures of short, fat, rowdy creatures called dwarves. No tentacles yet in that one.

Iroh cleared his throat. Asami looked up. “My lady,” he said, with a little bow, then held out his hand. 

“Can I see the big secret now?” she asked with a smile.

Iroh nodded. “Right this way.” Asami marked her place, then let him pull her up. He walked her the hundred yards or so back to his project, her warm hand firmly in his. A few places were still a little rough from where her burns had healed, but looking at them you could hardly tell at all. Asami might have gotten the short end of the stick when it came to sunburns, but Iroh had wound up with all of the visible scars. If they ever had kids, they’d either be a mess or invincible. The idea left him feeling a little funny. Iroh glanced at Asami, the bright sun highlighting her adorable freckles, and imagined her being tackled by bunch of small, green-eyed, black-haired, sun-kissed, laughing people. They hadn’t had that talk yet. Maybe they should.

They arrived to find the hole full of water still faintly steaming. Good. He’d tried to make it nearly boiling before so it would keep some of the heat. Iroh dropped her hand and stepped forwards, then gestured to the hole with a flourish.

“What do you think?” He smiled proudly. “I’d like to see an earthbender do that.”

Asami stared at the hole. “What is it?”

Iroh frowned. “You can’t tell?”

“It’s a… Iroh, it’s a hole. A hot hole?”

“It’s a hot tub.”

Asami burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You built a hot tub?”

Iroh grinned. “I did. I like hot tubs. So do you. We’re on vacation. So, I have provided.”

Asami walked around it in a slow circle, clearly interested and hopefully impressed. The pool wasn’t perfectly square, but he’d gotten close. “But how’s the water staying in it?” she asked. “I see what you did with the channel there, but isn’t it just going to make a pile of mud?”

“No, go feel it.”

Asami looked at him inquiringly, then knelt down next to the makeshift hot tub. She reached inside, then felt the sides. He saw her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“See? I fixed it.”

“But how?”

Iroh flicked his wrist slightly, sending a tiny blue ball of flame a couple of feet away into the sand. He grinned.

“Wait, you did that with  _ firebending? _ Iroh, that’s impossible, fire can’t melt beach sand. You need something way hotter than that, and it’s so smooth. Even lightning strikes…” Asami trailed off, then looked at him skeptically. “No way.”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you serious? The whole thing?” Iroh nodded. Asami’s mouth fell open a little. “You’ve gotten good enough at controlling lightning bending to do  _ that?” _

“Apparently I have. It’s the same principle as the scales, really. Lightning bending doesn’t have to be any more of an on/off switch than regular firebending. And it turns out balls of lightning are not only possible, but handy.”

“That’s… unbelievably cool.”

“It is,” Iroh said. He thrust out his chin a little, trying to look as tall and straight and otherwise appealing as possible. He may as well take the opportunity to dazzle her, after all. Iroh knew he was a lot of things, but “unbelievably cool” was rarely one of them.

Asami just laughed. She hopped up from where she’d been kneeling and walked back over to him. “There’s a problem though. It’s a million degrees out. About the last thing I want right now is a dip in the hot tub. Don’t get me wrong, it’s super impressive, but we’ll have to wait until it gets dark to try it out.”

Iroh smirked at her, then linked his fingers and stretched. Asami’s green eyes went wide in sudden understanding. “Oh no you d—” she started as Iroh dropped down and grabbed her. He flung her over his shoulder and started to run, Asami kicking and squealing as he went. 

“Irooooooooh!” she shouted, giggling and pounding at his back, his ass, anything she could reach. “Don’t you  _ dare _ you… goddammit Iroh it’s fucking  _ freezing _ … oh, you are going to  _ get it _ just you wait...” and then his ankles were in the surf. She wasn’t wrong. The southern ocean was bone-chillingly cold, its waters nearly unobstructed between SWE and the south pole. Asami laughed and cursed, her fingers digging into his sides, apparently trying to tickle him into letting her go. He was laughing too now, the frigid water up to his knees. _ Almost.  _

“Put you down, you say?” 

_ “YOU ARE SO IN FOR IT!”  _

Iroh dropped her. Asami landed on her back in the ocean with a splash, then came up sputtering and flailing. “Iroh!” she gasped. Without thinking reached down and grabbed her. It was all soft sand, no more than three feet deep, and it was just fun, he’d never hurt her, never. He locked his arms around her and pulled her up just as Asami pumped hard with her legs. She launched into him, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing into the waves. Deep, numbing cold surrounded him and he gasped, sucking in a mouthful of seawater. He came up coughing and then Asami was on him, laughing and pushing as she tried to dunk him again, her long legs now wrapped around his chest. Iroh rolled and pushed her under up to her shoulders and she shrieked before swinging her sopping, ice-cold hair into his face. 

“All right,” Iroh growled. “So  _ that’s _ how you want to do it.” He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down again, but this time she was ready. She leaned into his momentum and twisted, using his own weight to toss him sideways almost completely under. He’d told her once they were about evenly matched in hand-to-hand, and he hadn’t been lying.  Iroh got to his knees in the freezing water and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Asami crouched a few feet from him, eyes sparkling with wicked glee, her whole body shivering. 

“Now do you want my hot tub?” he panted, his hair dripping what felt like ice water down his naked back. 

Asami moved slowly over to him, her dark hair glistening, the expression in her eyes changing from laughter to something else. She ran both hands up his bare arms, not pausing at all when her palms met his scars. Like they weren’t even there. She kissed him then, her soft lips nearly blue with cold. “Heat me up, General?” she murmured, snaking her arms around his neck. He felt her cold nose against his cheek, but the inside of her mouth was warm. Iroh wrapped his arms around her and stood, feeling her hook her ankles behind his back. 

“Always,” he said, nearly breathless as they made their way back up the beach. “Oh spirits, always.”


End file.
